The VIPs
by Oracleismyname
Summary: AU - 8 years post S3. Rachel and her wife Quinn are happily married until a stalker disrupts their idyllic life in NY. Quinn is injured protecting Rachel and they must leave the spotlight to return to Ohio until he is caught. Santana is a detective assigned to protect them but can she keep them safe? Faberry with Quinntana and Pezberry friendship.
1. Chapter 1

**Summary:** AU - 8 years after the original Glee members graduate McKinley. Rachel Berry a Broadway star and her wife Quinn Fabray, a part-time actress and drama teacher are happily married until a stalker disrupts their idyllic life in NY. Quinn is injured protecting Rachel from the stalker and they leave the spotlight to return to Ohio until he is caught. Santana is a detective assigned to protect them but can she keep the stalker from attacking again? Faberry with Quinntana and Pezberry friendship.

There is some occasional bad language, but not too much.

**Author's note:**

**When I decided to try my hand at writing fanfiction, I had an idea but wasn't sure how to develop it as I hadn't written any before. I picked three possible storylines and worked on them with the intent that I would choose the one I liked most and publish it, thus discarding the other two. I chose 'Being Better' as the one to pursue. I didn't expect much feedback or for it to end up being so long, nor did I envisage the interaction with readers that would lead to the developments in the story.**

**After some discussion with another author, I decided to post one of the other ideas because it was a different TV show and I felt it was sufficiently different to warrant it. Again, I had so much positive feedback about 'Consequences' that I continued it beyond what I had originally planned.**

**I guess it's therefore easy to see why I decided to post this story in the end. I could have changed it substantially to make it more different again, but I am reliably informed that it is worthy of being published. I am not entirely convinced, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless.**

**If you hate it, I apologise, but before reviewing please bear in mind that the idea for writing my three stories were all born from a single starting point so it shares much in common with the other two stories. You don't need to point this out to me – I already know. There is a twist in the tail and the perp will eventually come forth, but the ending is still a mystery!**

**Also bear in mind when reviewing that I don't really care if you hate Faberry so there's no point in telling me this. What is helpful to authors is constructive criticism. It helps authors to keep motivated if you tell them what you liked and what could be improved rather than what you hate. I am guessing readers would like authors to keep writing so just a hint if you are thinking about feedback in general. Negative 'whining' feedback just makes authors feel dejected because this is just a hobby and we don't get paid for it. I am very open to ideas for development so if there is anything you would like to see as part of the story please drop me a line.**

Disclaimer: I do not own Glee or it's characters, I merely borrow them for a short time.

-The VIPs-

Prologue

"Lopez, in here."

The Sargent was his usual gruff self. Santana knew she had ground to make up after her brief suspension for taking out a perp's teeth the year before.

She was in her fourth year with the Police department and had only been with this unit for a month. She pretty much hated it for the most part, but it was less likely to get her kicked off the job for using excessive violence as she had in patrol and then the gang unit. She was a rising star, but with a temper and as such, she could be a liability. She wanted off the VIP unit desperately because it was generally where old officers went to die (well actually it was a retirement home in waiting for those who had done their time on the streets and wanted a cushy number for a little while before slipping into a life of golf.)

She had been sent there to get a little rehabilitation under the guise of promotion to detective. Her Sargent was one of the most experienced and respected officers in the Columbus PD and it was thought that he could rein her in and teach her a little self-control. The truth was that she had lost her temper and gone too far, but she cared about people and scumbag drug dealers were about the lowest of the low, especially when they prayed on school kids. Hence the guy had lost some teeth during the arrest. But now she was paying for it, she was stuck in this unit for the time being. The guys on the gang unit didn't give a shit about her sexuality, but this place was full of old-school cops who just might and that was part of why she hated it. She didn't want to let on about herself in case of disapproval, she needed to win them over and then get the fuck out of there asap.

College had gone well for her, but meant the end of her old school life and she missed that, but she joined up as soon as she graduated and it was perfect for a while. She kicked ass. She was born for this protecting people shit.

The VIP unit mostly worked as escorts for major events or major people. Dignitaries needed protection sometimes. There were crazy people out there, often with a cause and a gun. It was her job now to make sure they didn't succeed in carrying out their crazy in her part of the state. There were politicians, pop stars, diplomats, media types and they all thought they were important. In truth, most didn't really need the protection they were offered, but occasionally it was serious.

"I have a great assignment for you," the Sarge seemed excited. "We have someone important coming home to Ohio for a while and she needs some protection and I figured you are just the person for the job. This is going to be a long term assignment so be prepared to see very little of your apartment for the next few months. I think you'll like this one." The Sarge actually winked at her.

-THE VIPs-

Chapter 1

Rachel sat outside in the waiting room with her manager, a rather neurotic woman who once had dreams of becoming a major Broadway start herself, but those dreams had long since died and she spent all day on her phone arranging a constant stream of auditions for her select performers. What was happening now was beyond her skill set though and the cracks were showing. Rachel Berry had been a star even before she had finished her four year stint at NYADA. There were some people who thought she didn't even need to complete her degree in Musical Theatre, but she hadn't listened to them, instead sacrificing a little instant success for a slower approach. She still got there anyway and her latest show had sold out every night for nine months with two of the recordings hitting the top of the download charts in iTunes. She had made it and finally gotten what she wanted professionally. Personally things were also going well for her. She had used the MetroNorth pass bought by a certain blonde cheerleader, over an increasing number of weekends during her first year in college and similarly the blonde had reciprocated on the journey from New Haven in between. Who would have guessed that Rachel Berry and Quinn Fabray would end up an item?

Quinn had finally moved to New York after she graduated, qualified as a teacher and took up a position teaching drama in an exclusive private school in the Upper West Side. She loved performing still and took part in a number of small productions, but it turned out she loved teaching just as much.

For the last seven years, they had been open about their relationship and the final two had seen them happily married, living in a nice Manhatten apartment and thinking about starting a family.

And then the letters started to arrive.

Sent to her manager's address first of all, then the theatre of her latest show and then finally, their home.

That had been when NYPD had taken notice, but they hadn't had enough time to fully complete their investigations before the attack.

The worst thing was that it wasn't Rachel, the intended victim who had been hurt. It was Quinn.

-THE VIPs-

"Who is it this time?" Santana expected some politician who had blown the public coffers and stirred a vendetta from some haters.

"I think you'll recognize the name. None other than Ohio's favorite daughter, Rachel Berry." The Sarge, or more particularly, his wife was a big fan of musicals and they had seen Berry perform several times over the last couple of years.

"What the fuck!" Santana spat out the coffee she had been drinking and groaned.

"I thought you liked singing?" The Sarge looked at her confused. She'd been impressive, beyond impressive actually at a department night out in a karaoke bar in Columbus.

"You don't understand, Sarge. We were at school together."

"You know Rachel Berry?"

Santana nodded. "Yeah, I used to bully her at school when she was a freshman, well actually as a sophomore as well."

"Little Miss Righteous, you, a bully?"

She groaned again. She hadn't seen Rachel for a few years, not since they broke apart as a group of friends to go to college. She heard somewhere that she was gay now, which hadn't entirely surprised her, but that was about as much as Santana had heard. She was never one for keeping up with celebrity; she had been more interested in becoming one. That was part of her past life and now she worked in big black boots, with a badge, a gun and handcuffs; celebrity was not part of her remit anymore, unless you counted the ones she had to protect..

Santana explained how annoying Rachel had been, but how they eventually became friends only to part company when college came around. "I haven't seen her since she left for New York, Sarge. But if I know Berry, she's probably just as high maintenance as she was back in school. Hence the groan. Don't get me wrong, I like her, but she is annoying as hell sometimes."

"Well, I had the pleasure of talking to her this morning and I can honestly say she was nothing but charming, especially considering what she is going through right now."

Santana didn't like the sound of that at all. She had assumed it was a run-of-the-mill VIP job, but the Sarge's tone suggested otherwise.

"What is she going through?"

"This is on the quiet and highly confidential. You wouldn't ordinarily be taking a job like this, but I am aware of your …" he searched for the correct terminology, "sexuality and I thought this case would be ideal for you in the circumstances."

"You mean because she's gay and so am I we would get along together?" Santana was completely confused and a little bit offended.

"No, nothing like that. She's married anyway. No I mean she is the victim of a hate crime, well actually her spouse was the victim, it's complicated." He liked Lopez, she was no nonsense and not like some female cops who took offence too easy, actually she wasn't remotely politically correct and was capable of dishing plenty out to the guys she worked with. He didn't want to offend her so chose his words carefully. "She was and most likely still is, the intended victim of a hate crime by someone unknown at present. I'll start from the beginning." The Sarge ran his hand through thinning brown hair. "Ms. Berry has attracted the attention of a stalker. This particular whack job has issues with her sexuality and it seems that if they cannot have Ms. Berry, then no one can. It started with letters professing love and then became hate mail. It got to the point that her life was threatened. NYPD eventually got their asses into gear, but before they could find the guy, Ms. Berry and her wife were attacked on the way home from a performance. Ms. Berry was fine, but her wife was not."

"Oh my God!" Santana muttered. "Why wasn't this in the news? Berry is like big time these days."

"Her manager has kept a lid on the whole thing at the request of Ms. Berry. Her wife has been transferred to the rehab hospital here for the foreseeable future and they wanted to drop out of the spotlight until the guy is caught. The FBI is on the case now, but in the meantime, we need to make sure she and her wife remain safe. That's now your job. As far as the public are concerned, the story is that she is taking some time off to record a new album."

"I wonder why they came here, she swore she would never come back."

"They have a house in Lima. I think they feel safer somewhere a little out of the spotlight and it's close to family for the both of them."

"Her wife is from here too?" Santana's curiosity was peaked.

"I believe that's what she said. She's waiting in the foyer. Here are the notes, but you can read them at your leisure. Ms. Berry assures me they have a room for you at their house in Lima, so you are on familiar turf. Make sure she gets to and from the hospital safely every day and report in as necessary. You have the support of the sheriff's office in Lima if you need immediate back-up. I suggest you make a visit there at the earliest convenience and make nice with them."

"What about her wife? I can't watch over both of them if they're not together."

"Hospital has security and procedures put in place by the Feds, but as the target is Ms. Berry, we believe she was just collateral damage in the attack. Damned brave, she pretty much threw herself over her wife and ended up being stabbed in the back."

Santana's head went down thinking about Rachel and what she must be going through. Imagine having all your dreams come true, only for some crazy to use that against you and almost kill the person you love. She didn't even consider how dangerous this assignment could be.

"Well, I don't need to make formal introductions as you already know each other. She's with her manager at present in the foyer, I suggest you get to it. Don't forget to study the brief." He nodded at the rather thick file he had given the young officer. He smiled as she left his office, Lopez was as kick-ass as they came. If anyone would be motivated to protect the young couple it would be her.

-THE VIPs-

"Rachel?" Santana could see the diminutive star pacing in the foyer as she entered. Her face was the same and the long brunette hair was still worn long, though not with the shorts bangs she had last seen her with. She had a worried look across her features. No doubt the concern she felt for her own safety but her injured wife as well.

Not expecting someone to call her by her first name, the brunette looked up and the worry vanished momentarily, replaced by the disbelief of recognition and surprise all at same time.

"Santana!" She stepped forwards quickly and embraced the taller woman dressed in a dark pant suit and white shirt. Rachel released her just as quickly, her arm having brushed against the holster for Santana's service weapon. "What are you doing here? Are you a cop?"

Santana grinned. "Detective actually. Only for the last month, though. You could have struck me down with a feather when I found out I got assigned to protect you." Concern was written across her face. "You look just the same, only worried."

Rachel looked shocked. "You're my escort?" A nervous smile appeared. What was it the Sarge had said, charming. "I wish we were having a reunion under different circumstances, Santana. You look great. Obviously not eating too many doughnuts." She smiled genuinely hinting at the still athletic figure of the former cheerleader, then and gave her another hug. "It really is good to see you again. I actually feel relieved. It's hard to trust anyone anymore. I don't even know where to start, but I need to see Quinn can you take me there?"

"Quinn? As in Fabray? I haven't seen …"

"Quinn is my wife, Santana," Rachel laid a hand on Santana's arm. "I'm sorry I thought they would have told you."

Santana looked stunned. Then her mind went back to what the Sarge had said. Rachel's wife had thrown herself on top of her and been stabbed. She had been transferred to the big rehab hospital in Columbus. It was like a punch in the gut.

"The Sarge just gave me a quick brief, but not a name. I haven't had time to look through the file in detail. Quinn is your wife?"

Rachel nodded, tears forming. "We've been married for two years, but we have been together since college. I thought you might have known."

Santana's hand flew to her pocket and she handed Rachel a tissue. "I've not really taken much interest in showbiz, Rachel, sorry. I got myself a little detached from all that sort of thing after Brit and I broke up."

Rachel wiped her eyes. "Can we please go? I need to see her and I can explain more as we drive. I need to let my manager get back to New York as well. She's not coping." Rachel nodded over to a middle aged woman talking in an urgent whisper into her phone and looking somewhat stressed.

"Come on, let's get you out of here."

-THE VIPs-

Santana insisted Rachel wear a bullet-proof vest while outside. "You keep this on whenever we are exposed to people you don't recognize. I know it seems overkill in Ohio, but unless you can ID the guy..."

She left the rest unspoken.

Rachel complied straight away, but didn't know how it fastened up, so Santana fastened it for her.

"I'm so sorry you are going through this," the taller woman announced as she went ahead and checked outside the main doors. "Let's go," she waved Rachel out after her and took her to the black, department-issue sedan waiting by the curb.

They set off across town to the rehab hospital. "Tell me about Quinn. How is she?"

The tears flowed for a few minutes and Santana had to concentrate carefully as she drove, blinking away her own tears.

When Rachel eventually got control she explained the situation. "It happened three weeks ago. We were just coming out of the little theatre where Quinn was in a play. She takes on a few roles on top of her teaching job."

"Teaching, Quinn's a teacher?"

"Yeah, she started out teaching some acting classes in the holidays when she was still in college and just fell in love with it. She decided it was as important as acting. She teaches drama three days a week and then does some smaller productions, off-Broadway stuff. Mostly she just does plays, but she's been known to do the odd musical as well." Rachel smiled at the thought.

"I was on the matinee that day so I managed to get over to see her evening show and I must have been followed because it wasn't planned. I showed up unexpected to see Quinn and then we left out the back way because the Police told me to avoid crowds and I can attract attention quite easily these days. I think it's the nose," she looked at Santana briefly and the taller woman gave her a sympathetic grin.

"It was dark by the time we left and he just came out of nowhere, but I think Quinn's sixth sense kicked in, because she seemed to know it was happening before me and as he lunged at us, she pushed him away. I think I might have been screaming because my voice was really hoarse the next day and we attracted some attention, but before anyone could intervene, he lunged at us again and Quinn just stepped in front of him and pushed me away as hard as she could. I didn't even realize he had a knife. I got a small wound across my left arm but she took the blade right in the middle of her back" She started crying again. "It's just like that damned accident happened all over again."

Santana realized Rachel meant the car accident that had left Quinn badly injured in senior year and had spent four months in a wheelchair, some of it unsure whether she would regain the use of her legs. The connection suddenly took place in her brain. Quinn was stabbed in the back and in a rehab hospital.

"Fuck! Don't tell me she's going to be stuck in a wheelchair again."

Rachel didn't reply, she just stared out of the windscreen for a few moments. "It's not quite the same as the car accident, Santana. This time she won't be getting out of it."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thanks for the feedback so far. Here is the second part. If you are reading this again, there was an error that required correction and all the chapters afterwards needed re-posting to keep everything in the correct order. Apologies, if you spot the correction you are pretty eagle eyed.**

**Disclaimer: Glee does not belong to me**

-The VIPs-

Chapter 2

She hated hospitals with a passion and it had started back when she had visited Quinn after the accident. It seemed just beyond cruelty that her former friend and cheerleading captain should be back in this position again.

They were pretty secure in the rehab hospital. ID had been checked before they were allowed to enter the patient area and she had introduced herself to the security guard at the door. He looked like he knew what he was doing as well. They were escorted in the right direction and to an open area with bedrooms along one side and offices along the other. Santana was on alert, but actually had a good vibe. Unless the unsub had some seriously powerful contacts in law enforcement there was no way he would have been able to track Berry down yet. She had been careful, despite the emotion of the car ride over there, to check for anyone following them. That included parking up for a few minutes to see if there was any sign of a car tailing them. There was no sign that they were being watched at the moment.

Quinn's room didn't bear her name on the door, rather that of a pseudonym. It was strange to see her using the name Lucy again, but choosing Russell as her new surname seemed even more surreal. Rachel watched Santana's face bear a puzzled look at the use of Quinn's father's first name; she hated the guy.

A low chuckle came from Rachel. "She hasn't lost her sense of humor."

San smiled down at Berry. "I guess not. I'll let you go first and see she's okay about me coming in there."

Rachel opened the door, but waved Santana in the obviously empty room. She looked around. The bed in the center of the room against the wall had been freshly made and there were few signs of anything personal in the room. That was good in this case. The last thing she wanted was anything to ID Quinn or Rachel on display just in case. She checked the empty bathroom as well and found nothing to concern her there either. The room was on an upper floor with no easy access from outside. The perp would have to be fucking Spiderman to get in.

"This is pretty safe Rachel," Santana explained why to the Broadway star.

"I think she must have physical therapy if she's not here." Rachel looked a little lost and disappointed.

"So soon? I thought they would need a few more weeks before she was up and around."

Rachel shook her head. "The wound is pretty much healed so they started as soon as possible. It's not the same as a compression injury. The knife went straight through her spinal cord, completely severing it, so there wasn't much they could do apart from stop the bleeding and sew her up."

Santana shook her head. "This is wrong on so many levels, but for it to happen to her of all people, again."

"You can imagine how guilty I feel about it. It should be me lying in that bed and facing a future as a paraplegic not her."

"Hey, you can't think like that. Neither of you deserve this. There is only one person responsible and hopefully the Feds will have him locked up soon."

Rachel remained quiet for a moment. "Can I take the vest off in here?"

Santana thought about it. "If you are staying in here, yes. If you want to go find her, I'd rather you keep it on until we are sure what the score is."

"I'll wait here," she unfastened the straps that kept the Kevlar lined vest on. "So why the Police?"

Santana looked at her. "I didn't really know what I wanted when we were in school, but during college I started to feel like I wanted to protect people. I guess starting the Bully Whips was a rush and I felt like I was doing something good. I saw the Police stand at a recruitment fair for college graduates and it just clicked for me. I joined straight out of college."

"Do you enjoy it?"

"I do. I started on patrol for a couple of years, got selected for fast-track promotion and went to the Gang Unit for a while. I liked that, but I er.. got a little carried away and had a couple of weeks enforced holiday. They didn't kick me off fast-track, but decided I would be better off working a unit where I was less tempted to punch someone's lights out." She grinned. "I only knocked a few teeth out of this gang banger drug dealer and only then 'cause he was dealing at a school!" She shrugged. "I made detective anyway, so I was leaving whatever. The brass like me, but I am …" she searched for a fitting self-description, "… rash sometimes."

Rachel laughed. "You haven't changed at all. Still fierce on the outside, but inside you care about people."

Santana grinned. "You still in touch with anyone else from school?"

Rachel was suddenly thrown back to their old circle of friends. "I exchange messages regularly with Kurt. He doesn't know about this and I would rather keep it from him, and anybody else for that matter. I don't want anyone else getting hurt because they know me. I get updates from the others on Facebook and Quinn is still in touch with Artie, you know they bonded, but he's out in LA so we haven't seen him since the wedding." She looked up. "What about you?"

"Nah, I guess I drifted away from all of it really. It was hard because Brit was around but we weren't together anymore."

"I hadn't realized that was so hard on you. You really loved her."

"I did and couldn't stand to see her with the Kentucky Fried Stripper."

"Isn't she a dance teacher now?"

"Last I heard she was working out of a studio in Cincinnati," Santana nodded.

"I drop the occasional email to Mr. Shue. He seems happy now. He and Miss Pilsbury finally got married and they have two children; a boy and a girl I think."

"I know. I go into McKinley from time to time to talk to the kids."

"You do?"

She nodded, thoughtfully. "There was a lot of bullying at that school and I try to stop it by talking to them. Drug and alcohol problems prevail in some communities there as well. I do what I can."

Rachel was impressed. "I am glad about that. It's great to have someone from Lima trying to make a difference there."

"You don't come back much I guess?"

Rachel shook her head. "Usually just holiday celebration with my dads and Judy."

"How'd that work out?"

"Surprisingly well. Quinn's Mom re-married some years ago. She's changed a lot actually."

"That's good. What about your mother? Do you see anything of her?"

"Occasionally. She always lets Quinn see Beth a couple of times a year. Christmas and her birthday are the regular times, plus the odd weekend now and again. We're not super close, but we get along. It's not really a mother-daughter thing, she's more like a friend I guess."

There was noise outside in hallway, a familiar voice and the sound of footsteps and wheels rolling over linoleum. Rachel moved from where she had been standing by the window, suddenly nervous about the reunion that was about to take place.

"This thing is worse than the one I had nearly a decade ago," Quinn's warm voice had lost none of its appeal as it echoed outside the room, even if she was complaining.

"It's only until you get one of your own." Santana heard another female voice reply. She wondered what had happened to Quinn's old wheelchair. She guessed it had been disposed of in the summer after graduation from McKinley. It physically made her heart ache thinking about what that was like. To have it happen to you once in life was a nightmare, but twice was just beyond horrific.

Rachel almost ran to the door and Santana should probably have stopped her just in case, but had been lost in thought and wasn't quick enough.

"Quinn!" She heard Rachel's emotional greeting and then voices were low as she guessed they were hugging. "You will never guess who's been assigned to protect me."

"Tell me it's someone who looks like Jane Rizzoli and I'll die happy," Santana laughed out loud at Quinn's joke.

"She's even better looking. Come and meet Officer Lopez."

Quinn rounded the door, her jaw wide open when she saw who was standing, hands in pockets, looking somewhat sheepish.

"How many times am I going to have to say this? It's _Detective_ Lopez, not Officer. There's a difference you know!" Santana stood with a gentle smile, even if she was sad to see her old friend in a wheelchair again.

Quinn pushed the chair herself and rolled straight across the room and into waiting arms. There wasn't a whole lot of conversation for a good few minutes, it was mostly a mixture of sniveling and wiping eyes with Santana crouched to the side of Quinn. Eventually she released her hand from the back of the blonde head where it had been stroking the collar-length cropped hair.

"Oh God, this sucks. I'm sorry this is how we run into each other again, Q."

"Where the hell have you been for the last eight years?"

Santana laughed. "Hiding out in Ohio while you live it up in the Big Apple."

"What happened to being famous and that recording contract?" Quinn rubbed a hand across her face to wipe away the tears, but she was at least smiling now.

Santana scrunched her face up. "Not nearly so satisfying as kicking some bad dude's ass as it turns out." Santana remained crouched down so that Quinn was actually looking down on her. Her face turned deadly serious. "Just so you know. I won't let _anything_ happen to her."

Quinn watched dark brown eyes turn almost black in front of her. The relief she felt at that moment was in such contrast to the anxiety she had been feeling for the last few months. Finally someone she could trust was in front of her and she believed absolutely, that Santana Lopez would lay down her life to protect Rachel if that's what it took. But that also made it hard to be happy, because the last thing Quinn wanted was for a friend to die.

She pulled the darker woman against her again. "Thank you. You have no idea what this means to me."

"I know you could probably use some time together, but I can't leave her alone right now. Sorry, Q."

"I don't care about that. I just want her safe until this maniac is locked up."

Santana nodded. "We're going to be getting cozy for a while. You okay with that?"

"I don't have any choice, but I'm glad it's you and not some stranger."

Santana stood up and held Quinn's hand in hers, giving her a squeeze of reassurance. "Introduce me?" She nodded to the woman who had accompanied Quinn into the room.

"Gosh, sorry. I forgot. This is my physical therapist Angela," she motioned to the tall, red-head behind her. Spinning round slowly, she addressed the therapist. "Angela, this is Santana Lopez, Detective and an old school friend. San, Angela knows the score. The FBI gave her a protocol thing."

Santana left Quinn's side and went to shake hands with Angela. "Pleased to meet you. If Q gives you any problems let me know. She's stubborn as a mule and thinks she's Superwoman so if she suggests flying from the roof just ignore her."

Angela laughed. "I think she knows more than I do so it's hard to tell her what to do. I haven't met her stubborn side, but Rachel already warned me."

"Ahem! I am actually in the room you know," Quinn protested.

"Cool your tits, Fabray. It was just a joke."

"And still not funny I see," Quinn replied with mock indignation. "Angela I apologize for her, because she doesn't really do apology, even when she is wrong."

Santana had a cheeky grin across her face and gave the therapist a knowing look. "I'm going to be around a lot. If you notice anyone or anything that doesn't seem right, let me know first and don't be worried that you are overreacting. I can always apologize if I get heavy-handed with someone innocent."

"That's what I was told to do by the FBI," she nodded.

Santana nodded. "Good, where do we get coffee around here Berry, I'm in need of a pick-me-up."

It was Angela who answered. "I'll get the ward staff to bring you something, you stay here with them." She nodded at Rachel and Quinn who were holding each other again. "Quinn, do you want to get into bed before I go?"

"Er… I think I'm good in the chair for now. If that's okay."

"Pain score?"

"Maybe a three?" She shrugged.

"Call the orderly if it gets to a five or by one o'clock, whichever is sooner. See you at three for round two."

Santana looked curiously at the therapist. "Quinn can explain the shorthand," she said and left, her long auburn ponytail swishing as she turned.

"It's okay, San. Relax. She just wants me to rest up for a couple of hours before my afternoon session."

"Okay," she walked back to where she had been sitting originally. There was a lot left unsaid, but for now Rachel was quiet, which spooked the detective. She watched as the brunette went to stand by the window again, lost in contemplation. Quinn rolled up beside the bed and poured herself a glass of water. She stayed where she was, her hands occupied, and sipped her drink for a while.

"Where are you based now?" She asked her former teammate.

"Columbus, at headquarters," she nodded out the window as if it was just across the road.

"So you live here too?"

"Yeah, I have a nice apartment not too far from here actually."

"Do you get back to Lima much?"

"I'm not sure what the average would be but every few weeks at the most. Just to see my folks usually. I was telling Rach earlier about going back into school every now and then to speak to the kids, try to keep them clean. She said you were teaching now?"

Quinn nodded thoughtfully. "For the last three years. I work at a nice school on the Upper West Side, or I used to at least." She looked down briefly.

"Is there any reason you can't go back once this is over?" San looked at Quinn, then Rachel who turned around at that.

Quinn shrugged. "I don't know how long this is going to take."

Santana didn't know if Quinn was referring to rehab or finding the guy who was stalking Rachel.

Rachel turned back to staring out of the window.

"Upper West Side?" Santana didn't understand the reference.

"Of Manhatten," Quinn responded. "It's to the west of Central Park. Nice area."

"Lots of rich kids?"

"I guess," Quinn replied. "They are nice though."

"McKinley hasn't changed much. Figgins is still there and Sue, though I think she might retire soon. She's still all kinds of crazy. Mr. and Mrs. Schue are still going strong, two baby Schue's have also arrived."

"I think we knew that, didn't we?" Quinn looked over to Rachel, who turned and nodded.

Santana looked at Quinn as if to say, 'what's up' but got wary eye from the blonde woman that suggested she not say anything.

They continued to talk about Lima and the people they knew. "Is Breadstix still open?"

"Yeah, but I haven't been in ages. We should definitely go there again sometime." Santana forgot their circumstances briefly, then remembered. "After this is all over, I mean."

Quinn nodded. "It will be nice to do something normal again."

"I'm so sorry," Rachel mumbled quietly. "If I had known for even for a second that something like this would come from me wanting to be a performer …" She left the rest of the sentence unsaid.

Quinn placed her water back on the table and rolled over to the window, slipping her hand inside Rachel's smaller one. It made Santana feel cruel that she had once called their favorite diva 'man hands'.

"Talk to me, please. Stop staring out of the window. He's not out there."

"He is. I don't know where, but until they catch him, I just can't help looking everywhere I go."

"San's here, she's going to look after you so you don't have to look out for him."

"You don't understand. I wanted this. This whole thing. The stage, the music, the adulation, the celebrity. I wanted all of it and now I feel sick at the thought that it brought us right back here."

"It's not so bad being back, is it?"

"No, but it's not what I was dreaming of for all those years and I would have given all that up in an instant for you to not be here right now."

"Ssh. Quinn tugged at Rachel's hand. "Sit," she pointed down at her lap.

"I don't want to hurt you." Rachel looked ashen.

"You're not going to hurt me, Rachel. Sit down." Rachel tentatively inched her hips over Quinn's knees until Quinn could wrap her arms around her wife. "I know you feel bad for me and to be honest, I would rather be in the drama studio with my tenth grade class like I should be instead of here, but it is what it is and we can't change it. I don't want to see you punishing yourself for something that isn't your fault. I think we've been here before. I know this is like some cosmic déjà vu going on right now and maybe this is the universe's way of telling me that I should never have gotten off so lightly nine years ago when I got hit by that truck. I don't even pretend to think that God has plans anymore, I can't subscribe to that after this. I do know that it wasn't your fault nine years ago but you tried to take the blame then, and it's not your fault now. I'll cope. If I learned anything back then, it's that we just continue with our lives and make the most of what we have. At least this time round I know how it all works." Quinn leaned her head into Rachel's bosom. "Promise me you'll stop blaming yourself and just help me deal with it. I need you to be strong for me. Can you do that?"

Rachel nodded. "I don't know that I can stop feeling bad for you, but I guess I can stop punishing myself."

"I can live with that for now. I tell you something else as well. When all this is over, and it will be over someday, we are going to have babies. I feel ready now and I want some baby Berry's or Fabray's or whatever."

Rachel laughed properly for the first time that day. "I'd love to have a baby version of you running around. Beth can have a little sister or brother. She'd really like that."

"So that's what we are going to aim for, okay?" Quinn shook Rachel until she agreed.

"Okay," she slipped out of Quinn's lap and asked if Quinn wanted to lie down. "You must be tired, travelling through the night."

"I'm fine, stop fretting." Quinn took the remote control for the TV. "Shall we watch something?" she switched it on and they found some repeat episodes of 'Friends' and 'Big Bang Theory' to take their mind off the situation for a while.

Santana looked down at her watch. It was approaching one o'clock. Quinn looked over at her. "I know what time it is," she grumbled. "No need to check up on me, like I'm staying out past curfew."

San shrugged and returned to reading the notes in the file her boss had given her.

Rachel needed the bathroom and made for the door. "Where are you going?"

"Ladies room." She looked surprised. "It's just across the hallway."

"Doesn't matter," San stood and unclipped the holster, her jacket having been removed some time ago and her white shirt sleeves now rolled up. "Where you go I go for now." She went ahead of Rachel through the door and looked for the bathroom which was just a little way down the hall. Checking in both directions first and seeing the hallway empty, she went ahead and searched the bathroom. There was someone in one of the cubicles but San waved Rachel in while she stood outside. She got a strange look from a nurse who came out before Rachel. The nurse looked at the gun and the badge strung around Santana's neck.

"Officer," the nurse nodded, realizing what she was.

"Detective," she corrected the nurse. "Lopez."

"You are here for Ms. Russell?"

"Her wife," Santana corrected her again.

"Good, terrible business."

Santana didn't answer, she just nodded in the direction of the cubicle. The nurse realized what she meant and left before Rachel emerged. She wondered if that had been deliberate on the part of her friend.

"I'd much rather you watched over Quinn than trail to the toilet with me."

"Quinn is unlikely to be the victim of another attack. You were the intended victim, Rachel. Quinn just got in the way and as terrible as it sounds, he doesn't care about her. It's you he wants and so I have to stick with you, no matter how protective you are feeling about her."

"But what if he was trying to get to her because we're married."

Santana shook her head. "The threats are quite specifically aimed at you. I wish I could end this right now, but until we either have forensics or he re-surfaces, we just have to make sure you're safe. I know this is inconvenient."

"Inconvenience is nothing," she replied and went to leave. Just as she moved, she realized that Santana was supposed to go ahead of her and stopped to allow the taller brunette to leave first. She noticed that Santana's hand rested on the butt of the gun as she opened the door and it sent a chill down her spine.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thanks for the nice feedback and helpful comments on the previous chapters - much appreciated!**

**Some more angst for those who like a little tension!**

Disclaimer: I do not own Glee or any of the characters from the show

* * *

-THE VIPs-

Chapter 3

Quinn was looking at the clock and then at the bed. She had been in the chair for three hours which was pretty good for her first day in rehab, especially as she had not had any sleep to speak of the night before when she had been moved from the hospital in New York via helicopter. She guessed it was the first time a patient had arrived at the rehab center at four in the morning.

"Come on Fabray, sort yourself out. The sooner you do this, the sooner they will let you out of here." She spoke to herself, but said it out loud. Her arms weren't as strong as they had been after four months in a wheelchair last time, but she worked out regularly and she wasn't that heavy. She looked at the board they had given her in the morning to get from the bed to the chair, decided against it initially then had a re-think. The bed could be lowered to the same height as her chair, but her balance was hopeless. She couldn't sit straight without the help of the thermoplastic TLSO brace strapped around her body.

She used the remote to get the bed level with the chair and then lined herself up with the edge of the mattress. The chair was a little wider than her old one, which had been fitted properly, but it was near enough. She lifted the armrest out of the way and then used her hands, just as she remembered to shift her hips sideways using the board until she was on the bed. It was harder work than she remembered, but then it would be. Her injury was much worse and higher than last time. That familiar hurt of not being able to sense her legs and butt had been with her since she had come round in the ambulance. She didn't really remember much about the immediate aftermath.

Rachel had been screaming and people running from the street at the end of the alleyway, but the guy had gone in the opposite direction with a good fifty yards start. The only thing she could remember clearly about him was that he was white, pretty tall and quick on his feet. The rest was just a blur. She shuddered at the thought of what had happened. It hurt a lot to know that she had taken her last voluntary steps to move in front of a madman with a knife, but at least Rachel was unhurt; physically at least.

When she had woken in the ER, the doctors were trying hard to stem the bleeding. She had been fortunate in that a major artery had been missed by a fraction of an inch, but not so lucky in that the knife was thin and double edged. It had penetrated the Dura and then her cord in the middle of her back between her shoulder blades. The numbness had followed a brief period of intense burning and tingling throughout her body. When they had the bleeding stemmed, Rachel had held Quinn's hand as the doctor explained she needed surgery. Being awake throughout the whole experience had been surreal. Last time, she had been unconscious and knew nothing until she came round, but this time, waking from the surgery; she had already known the truth. She was paralyzed from the T5 vertebrae down; sensation and movement were non-existent from just below her breasts.

She dragged her left leg up onto the bed as far as possible and adjusted her hips slightly then pulled the right one up after it. She looked at them lying at an odd angle, crooked and motionless unless she used her hands to straighten them out. She didn't even realize she was crying at first. So far, she hadn't shed too many tears for herself, a little cry with Rachel the morning after her surgery and just a little earlier with Santana. It wasn't like last time when she had been an emotional wreck for the first few weeks and had cried herself to sleep more often than not. But she had been in a different place in her life then; insecure and immature. She had changed a lot in the months after the car accident, becoming less bitchy and more friendly to those around her. She found a direction for her emotions and let her ambition take her away from her troubled teenage years to a better life on the east coast. Would all that go now? Rachel was her wife, but this wasn't what she had signed up for. It was one thing to love her when she was whole, but what if Quinn's paralyzed body was just a turn-off, what if Rachel couldn't cope with someone in a wheelchair for the rest of her life, worse still what if that bastard came back and this time succeeded in harming Quinn's wife while she sat by unable to physically stop him?

Quinn sniffed loudly and then as was her want, she spoke aloud to herself. "Come on, get it together. You can't let this beat you." She shoved at her legs a little to get them straighter and then pushed with her hands to drag herself back along the bed until she felt the pillows behind her back. Raising the bed a little with the remote, she leaned back and relaxed. She'd had three weeks to at least make a start on managing her body on her own. She hated the dependence and would push to extremes to do everything herself. The hospital in New York had let her feed herself and sit up in bed as soon as they had manufactured the brace. She had felt sick as a dog the first few days, but that soon passed. She had been doped but not so much as after the car crash; she'd had more than a single injury to worry about then. It was crap, but she had gotten used to the lack of feeling pretty quickly. Quinn also resigned herself; no one got as lucky as she had been at eighteen twice in a lifetime; her recovery then had been borderline miraculous and she just knew that this time it was different. It already had a feeling of permanence.

A tap on her door alerted her to someone new. He was wearing an ID badge, but she was so paranoid now that fear rose in her chest.

"Hi, Lucy. I'm Daniel, the wheelchair technician. Angela asked me to stop by and measure you up." He smiled at her but his face changed completely as Santana stepped in front of him, hand on her weapon and checked his ID badge. "Is there a problem?" He looked a little pale.

"I need someone to vouch for you before you go in there." She had heard him call her Lucy, so she guessed he was okay, but she wasn't taking any chances.

He nodded slowly and called over the security guard who gave Santana the all-clear.

"Okay, in you go then," she nodded. Following behind him and with Rachel trailing in last, he went to the bed.

Rachel sat on Quinn's left and Santana just stood and watched from the foot of the bed. Daniel dropped some catalogues on the mattress.

"I can measure you now if that's okay and then we can discuss what you want to order and how long it will take. I brought these catalogues, but I see you have a laptop, so we can look online and you might get a better idea of what suits you. Angela warned me that you had been through this process before, so I can offer advice, but you might have a clear idea of what you want anyway." He had a notepad with him and a tape measure.

Quinn nodded thoughtfully. "I guess it's been nine years since I had to do this and I didn't really get a choice in it, my Mom ordered it with the physical therapist last time." She sighed a little. "Okay let's get on with it. The sooner the order goes in, the sooner I get rid of the loaner." She nodded at the rather basic-looking chair with its red frame and standard wheels. It was hardly the Rolls Royce of chairs, more like a cheap, bargain basement model.

He grinned. "I know, hardly stylish is it? I need to measure your legs for the most part. If you feel uncomfortable with any of this, please let me know. The occupational therapist is supposed to be here as well, but I haven't seen her yet. Have you met Larissa?"

Quinn shook her head. "I just got here this morning."

"She's nice. You'll like her. Do you want to wait or get started."

"Let's just get on with it."

Daniel nodded and then explained what he needed to do. He measured the length of her lower leg and thigh, carefully checking each one twice and then writing down the numbers on his pad. Then he measured the width of her hips from right to left. Finally he asked about her injury level.

"T5," Quinn responded.

"Can you just indicate on your stomach where your sensation ends," he asked quietly.

Quinn showed him, drawing a line across the white plastic brace, just under her breasts.

"I could really do for you to be sat in a chair to measure the backrest height. Do you mind transferring back?"

They were interrupted by the OT who came and introduced herself as Larissa. She shook hands with Quinn first, then Rachel and finally Santana.

"Sorry I am a little late, my last session overran."

Daniel got her up to speed and explained about needing to measure Quinn in the chair, so Larissa offered to help her transfer.

"It's okay, I can manage." Quinn was pretty confident about it since her earlier success without witnesses.

Larissa looked skeptical. "Only if you use the board and have a buddy stand behind you." She looked around to find it.

"I didn't need a buddy earlier, so I don't see why I need one now."

"Quinn!" Rachel looked over.

"What?" She gave a Gallic shrug, pulling the board up to her hips. "I know what I'm doing." And without any further discussion, she showed them.

"You're supposed to be cautious while everything heals properly." Rachel's brow wrinkled with worry.

"I am being cautious, I used the board when I was just going to go without."

"Okay," Larissa looked somewhat surprised. "How long ago were you injured? I thought I read in your notes it was three weeks. Am I in the right room? I thought your name was Lucy."

"It was nine years ago the first time," Quinn sighed. "Then three weeks ago this time and Quinn is my middle name."

Larissa looked confused.

"Santana, you fill her in while we get this measuring sorted," Quinn didn't feel like explaining yet again.

Santana indicated Larissa should move away a little so she could explain.

"I seem to be somewhat out of the loop here," Larissa complained.

"Sorry about that. I'm sure it's not deliberate. Quinn was injured in a car accident when she was eighteen, February of senior year. She had a compression injury that left her paralyzed from …." She paused to check the details. "Quinn, what was your injury level back in high school?"

"L1."

"So yeah, she was paralyzed for a few months and went through the whole rehab thing back then. She was completely paralyzed to begin with, but then slowly started to recover sensation after about eight or nine weeks and then movement a few weeks after that. She was in the chair for about four months in total I guess."

"She made a full recovery?"

"Completely, she was dancing by the end of the school year."

"Wow, so that explains her ability to transfer so easily, but what a terrible thing to go through this twice." Larissa went quiet for a moment as she thought about her next course of action. Turning from Santana she went back to Quinn.

"Let me start again. I'm sorry I was unaware of the injury you had as a teenager. I think we might have to rethink the plan I had for you, so if it's acceptable, I will get a new plan going but with your input. You can tell me exactly where you're at and what you think you might need me to help with."

"It's fine, I just assumed it would be in my medical records." Quinn realized that using a pseudonym had resulted in a lack of previous medical information being used in her file to protect her identity.

Daniel carried on measuring and suggested being less conservative than usual.

"Why?" Quinn asked.

"You obviously know how to handle yourself, so why bother. You'd just end up wanting something else a few months from now. Might as well go with what you want from the start."

He made a few more notes and nodded at the laptop. "You want to boot that up and do some research?"

"What do you recommend?"

"If you can afford it, go custom, but you might get the wrong thing and be unhappy with it. Be careful. Shall we start with the must haves and go from there?"

"Okay," Quinn looked a bit unsure. "I'm not sure what the must haves are so you might need to prompt me."

"First question, apologies if it sounds rude, but how good is your insurance? I just ask because some have limited choices available and I don't want to recommend something you can't afford."

Rachel, who had been listening but hadn't interfered suddenly butted into the conversation. "Money is not an issue, whatever Quinn needs, she has it."

Quinn was a little embarrassed, but Rachel's steadfast gaze met hers and a look of reassurance passed between them. Rachel couldn't do much about their situation at that particular moment, but she could pay for things and it made her conscience ease somewhat that not all her strength had been eroded.

"Right, that's excellent news. We can remove some of these from the pile then," Daniel flicked through the brochures he had brought and pulled a number of them out and discarded them on the bed. It left him with four or five remaining. "So we have some that are off the shelf that I have discarded, because to be honest, they all have issues. That leaves us with those that can be ordered with personal modifications and fully customized."

"The lightest are probably TiLite chairs, titanium frames, plenty of choices for individualization and can be here before you leave rehab. Quickie are about the same and we can get the reps in to let you try some of them out. Colours chairs are…"

"That's what I had before," Quinn said. "A razrblade!"

"Okay, well we can get the rep in for them as well, but they don't have as many stock chairs like the others, they have better choice for custom models though. They still make the model you used to have, its just been updated."

"Let's have a look at the brochures and see," she nodded. Quinn took each in turn and folded down the page of the ones she was interested in.

Larissa looked over her shoulder and offered some advice about what would make life easiest. "I would go titanium if possible because it's so light and can be lifted in and out of a car really easy. Most of the ones you have identified have a titanium option, but that last one doesn't. I would also go with a rigid frame and backrest for your level of injury. It will be much more supportive and help you keep your balance better. Some people like the folding ones because they are easy to get into a car without taking off the wheels but they aren't as supportive and the frame is heavier."

Quinn flicked back and unfolded the page. "I had one where the back tipped forward, that's rigid frame isn't it?" She looked up at Larissa for confirmation, who nodded in response. "I'm not sure about some of the other things though. I just had regular wheels last time, but there are lots of different ones in the pictures."

"Don't worry, you can choose them at the end. The most popular are Spinergy wheels, they are pretty indestructible and weigh less than the others." She pointed out what she meant. "Of course if you look at the Colours ones, you might just like them because they are fancy. I have to be honest, they look great but the Spinergy ones are lighter and with a T5 injury weight is a factor when you want to get it in and out of a car easily."

Quinn laughed. "These wheels are definitely a statement. Rachel, what do you think?" She held up the catalogue.

Rachel didn't respond immediately, but screwed up her nose, suggesting she wasn't a fan. "I can't say purple leopard skin print is number one on my list either."

San had to get a look at that. "Purple, really?" She stalked over to her blonde friend. "No freakin' way!" Then more thoughtfully. "It's pretty funky, but maybe only with pink hair." She nudged Quinn's arm.

The blonde laughed out loud at the memory. "I had _completely _forgotten about that."

Santana grinned.

"Let's stick to safer color combinations shall we?" Quinn stated. "I'm just vain enough to say appearance is important; a girl needs to look good, but not so much that it outweighs practicality."

They spent a good amount of time discussing the merits and then Angela arrived for the afternoon PT session so the discussion came to an end.

Quinn went off with Angela, leaving Santana and Rachel looking at reviews and pictures on the internet. There were lots of user reviews and photos to look at and they saved a ton of photos for Quinn to look at later.

Glancing at the time, Santana looked at Rachel. "Come on. Quinn's going to be a couple of hours, let's go get something to eat."

"I'm not hungry," Rachel stated flatly.

"Maybe not, but you promised Quinn you would stay strong for her and I promised her I wouldn't let anything happen to you. You starving doesn't help either of us to keep our promises."

Santana went to where her jacket hung on the back of a plastic chair. She rolled down her sleeves and put it on. "Don't want to freak anyone out with my service weapon on show. You ready as you are?"

Rachel just nodded and stood waiting for direction. She received a nod towards the door and they made their way out of the room and into the hallway. San looked for a sign that told them where to find something to eat and drink and saw a small arrow with the word 'café' on it. They moved along and finally took notice of what was around them. The journey in had been tense and both had been on their guard. They were a little less on edge now that they had spent some time there.

Santana dropped a muffin and hot tea that Rachel had asked for and the wrapped sandwich and bottle of water for herself on the table. The noise of the chair scraping along the floor echoed inside the largely empty café. It was the only noise for a while as they sat in silence. Their earlier questions about each other's life had already been answered and now there wasn't much to say.

"You're struggling to keep it together aren't you?" San grabbed Rachel's hand and gave it a squeeze.

A sad smile crossed the shorter brunette's lips. "Surely you would be more surprised if I was finding this situation easy?"

San nodded. "Of course I would. I know in theory, I'm just here to protect you, but I'm also a friend Rachel. You can talk to me if you want."

"I don't know how to talk to her," Rachel's eyes darted away. She didn't have to say it was Quinn she meant; it was obvious. "She's not supposed to be taking this so well. She should be angry or something and instead she's just so calm that I can't help thinking at some point there's going to be this giant nuclear meltdown and she'll blame me for all of it."

"I am not so sure that's going to happen. She's been in this place before and I think that's why she's calm and of course last time she didn't have you beside her. I think she loves you so much that she doesn't care about the future so long as you are in it."

Rachel looked back and met the steady gaze. "How can you tell?"

"I've never seen Q look for approval from anyone the way she looks at you for it. So long as you love her and show her that, I think she'll be fine." She opened the bottle of water and drank a mouthful.

Rachel's small hands grasped the mug of tea in front of her. "I don't know what to do or say that makes this any easier. I am mortified every time I see her move her legs. I feel a pain in my chest when I realize that she can no longer feel or move half her body. How do I get past that?"

"You have to just suck it up and be okay with it. We did this before as well. Remember the time in the girls' bathroom when we teased her about Joe? It was the Whitney tribute week, not too long before prom and her physical therapy wasn't going well."

"I do, she pretty much shut me down when I was sympathetic. I saw the look on your face as well. You didn't know what to say either."

"I didn't, but I know that us feeling sorry for her only made her feel annoyed and frustrated back then and I think the same is true now. She needs us to do what we would normally do in her presence. I will tease and make fun of her and you will be helpful and full of enthusiasm. When we get back, go through those pictures and tell her which ones you think are nice. Imagine what she will look wearing her favorite outfits. You know what she likes to wear now and what she enjoys doing. What do the two of you get up to in your spare time these days and keep it clean, please?"

Rachel smiled. Same old Santana Lopez. "We like to go for long walks in the park and go to the gym a few times each week. Quinn plays tennis with some of her colleagues, I am useless, thought I can be persuaded to knock the ball about a bit. We always have a couple of weeks skiing each winter. Apart from that, we go to the cinema and theatre a lot, we enjoy shopping and entertaining as well as work I guess."

"Then that's what you focus on, getting back to all of that."

Rachel looked up. "I would like to think that was possible, but I really don't see how yet."

"You can't think about everything all at once, Rachel. You need to just tackle one of those at a time. As soon as she is up to it, we'll take her out to the cinema. I might even let you choose the film."

Rachel chuckled, which also brought a smile to Santana's face. It was pretty much the first time he had seen her laugh since they had spoken that morning.

-THE VIPs-

They chatted a while longer before returning to Quinn's room. Her case manager was waiting for the blonde woman to return from her therapy session. She was also in a wheelchair, which caught both Rachel and Santana by surprise. They were now struggling to remember names, there were so many new people in such a short space of time.

"I'm Elise, Lucy's case manager." She introduced herself. "I wanted to talk to you as well Rachel. We have a range of services here for family as well as clients so it seemed a good time to catch you. I wanted to give you a program of seminars for all the issues arising as a result of Lucy's injury. It's important for you to understand all the stages of recovery and the impact on your life as well as hers. I think we should probably talk about adaptations to your house for when she is finished with her rehab."

"Thank you. My wife actually prefers her middle name, Quinn. The seminars I will attend, but our house is already fully adapted."

Santana looked up to meet Rachel's impassive face. "You're staying at Quinn's old house?"

"Her mother remarried but we bought the house from her to use when we stayed in Lima. I didn't think we would ever end up needing it in these circumstances though."

Elise was clearly none the wiser and assumed Quinn's mother had needed the house modified until Rachel went through the process of explaining again about the car accident and how the ground floor had been fitted out with an accessible bathroom and wider doorways.

"We might have to rearrange furniture again, but at least in the short term we won't need to make too many changes."

"Well that's one thing you don't need to worry about immediately, though you might find additional modifications are needed at a later stage, possibly in the kitchen and we can help plan for those even after she is discharged."

"Thank you," Rachel repeated herself. "We hope to return to New York eventually and we may have to source alternative accommodation if our current apartment is no use."

"I am aware that there are some unique circumstances surrounding your wife's admission so we aren't going to apply the same conditions to you that we would normally. That said, we want to encourage Lucy, sorry, Quinn, to be as independent as possible. We find that it's best for family to be here regularly but not all day, every day." Elise didn't specify exactly what she meant by that and left it as a suggestion.

Rachel was quiet and thoughtful for a moment. "It is a little difficult to avoid worrying about her safety at the moment so forgive me if I sound more anxious than your clients' relatives normally do. I would like to make sure she is safe, but I won't interfere in your plans for her rehabilitation. If you want me to leave, I will see if my wife agrees first. If she wants me to stay, I will remain here until she goes to sleep."

"Rachel," Santana caught her attention. "She's going to be fine and able to concentrate better on her rehab if you are okay, so you need to get some rest and take care of yourself too."

"Your friend is right," Elise agreed. "If you wear yourself out, she is only going to be distracted. We have the appropriate procedures in place to ensure her safety, so I would encourage you to stick to the protocol we have agreed."

Rachel sighed. "Leave the information with me and I'll look through it now."

Elise moved her wheelchair over to where Rachel was still looking out of the window and handed the schedules over.

"Thanks for all your advice. I know it may not seem like it, because I am a little cranky right now, but I am grateful."

"We will have your wife out of here as soon as we can so you can get back to your life," Elise smiled reassuringly.

"If only that were possible," Rachel mumbled.

"It is. You will be surprised at how well someone with Quinn's injury will adjust," Elise began to give her the speech about a positive attitude and being able to do anything they want but was stopped in her tracks by Rachel who explained herself properly.

"Elise, I don't doubt my wife's abilities, nor anyone's in the same circumstances. It was the fact that we do not have a normal life to return to. We haven't had a normal life since I became famous. I wasn't doubting her because of her ….. disability." Rachel felt a twist in her gut at the use of that word.

"I see. Sorry for the misunderstanding."

"No, I'm sorry for not explaining my comment properly and for the sarcasm. It was unwarranted. I am just not myself right now and you must think I am one of those high maintenance diva's…."

"Ahem," Rachel was interrupted by the Latina before she could continue. "Rachel, I hate to break it to you, but you have always been high maintenance."

"Touché," Rachel nodded. A wry smile spread across her face showing that at least she could accept this about herself even in a crisis. "Again, my apologies. I will act in my wife's best interests at all times, though I cannot guarantee that she and I will always agree on that either."


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Thanks for the feedback those of you who are reading this little story.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee**

* * *

Chapter 4

Quinn returned from the therapy session worn out, the lack of sleep had finally begun to take its toll and she collapsed onto the mattress, barely moving her arms were so tired. "Sorry, but I really need to sleep a while."

Rachel took hold of her hand and told her to rest. "I'm going to go back to the house for a while. I need to unpack and see what state it is in. The cleaning company should have been by last week to give it a good spring clean. I need to call in and see your mother as well as my Dads. I'll try to make it back this evening before you go to sleep."

"Don't come back all this way again, Rach. Get some rest and come back tomorrow. It's quite a long drive and I am done for so I will probably be out of it before too long."

"Alright, if that's what you want. I'll see you tomorrow. I love you," the short brunette stood and leaned over so they could share a hug. After holding each other a while, they released and kissed briefly.

"I love you too. Sleep well. Look after her for me please, Santana and thank you as well." Santana reached out to give her a quick hug before they let her get some rest.

"See you tomorrow," Santana waved as she led Rachel out, back on alert now they were headed out of the hospital again.

The car ride was uneventful and Rachel soon dropped off to sleep while they were on the highway headed northwest for Lima. As they approached the city limits, Santana reached across and shook Rachel awake.

Rachel jolted awake, startled at the touch. Her heart thudded in her chest as she looked around her for any danger. Her gaze landed on Santana as her memory returned; she was safe in a car with her former high school classmate and not in New York City. Rachel leaned her head back against the head rest. She was still a little groggy. "Was I asleep the whole way?"

"Pretty much. Where do you want to go first?" Not wanting to embarrass her, Santana remained silent about Rachel's jitters. It was normal after all to become hyper-vigil after experiencing the trauma that the Broadway star went through. She would keep an eye on it to make sure it didn't get out of hand.

Rachel thought about it briefly. "Quinn's mom, I need to see her and let her know where she is so she can arrange to visit."

"I don't know where she lives now," Santana looked expectantly. Rachel leaned forwards and entered the address into the satnav for her. Santana glanced over and recognized the street. "Nice area, that's near your old house isn't it? Your dads are still living in the same house I take it?" Rachel nodded and then fell quiet almost instantly. "I need to call into the Sherriff's office in town today if possible, do you mind if we go there beforehand?" Rachel shook her head, almost relieved that she had a little longer to organize her thoughts.

Detective Lopez pulled up outside and looked around. There were a few people out on the streets, but nothing untoward seemed to be happening. Rachel had the vest on and Santana made her wait until she was out of the car before opening the door. Rachel placed a hat on her head and had dark glasses with her to keep from being recognized easily. Santana quickly led her into the building. Inside she spoke to the desk officer and was led through to the Sherriff's office.

"Detective, what can I do for you?"

"Good evening sir, Santana Lopez. I am here on behalf of the State Police VIP task force and the FBI. May I introduce you to Rachel Berry."

They shook hands and he seemed suitably impressed.

"We are here because I have been assigned to protect her from the threat of a stalker who seriously injured her wife in an attempt to kill Ms. Berry three weeks ago. Ms. Berry's wife is in hospital in Columbus for now and she will be staying here for the time being. Here is the address. I will be staying with her and we feel it is unlikely that the attacker will have followed her here from New York where the attack took place. That said, until the FBI catch him, we need to be ultra-vigilant and I may need to call upon your deputies or the local Police for back-up. I wanted to let you know about the situation and have been asked to give you this file of information about the investigation to date."

"Thank you, Lopez. I'll look over this and brief my deputies. Call if you need anything. I'll also talk to the local Police chief, do you know him?"

"I know a little, I am from Lima, as is Ms. Berry and her wife. We are old school friends as coincidence would have it."

Rachel interjected at this point. "Sherriff, please thank your deputies in advance for their assistance. I am aware that this is inconvenient for you."

"It's a pleasure to meet you Ms. Berry and no inconvenience at all. We are glad to welcome you home to Lima, though I wish it were not under such circumstances."

"I feel much safer here than in New York, so it's good to be back," Rachel stood and shook hands once again and they were quickly on their way.

"Do you want to call ahead?" Santana asked Rachel as they followed the satnav's guidance.

"I really should but I am worried about Judy's reaction. I don't think she's my biggest fan."

"I can call if you like," she offered.

"No, I'll do it." Rachel sighed and then called.

Santana heard emotion in both Rachel and Judy's voices in their brief conversation, but no acrimony and they pulled up outside the house fifteen minutes later.

"Wait a second," Santana instructed. She was taking no chances. "Okay," she tapped on the window having seen the front door open to reveal a familiar blonde woman at the door.

Rachel moved quickly and found herself being pulled inside the house and into an embrace. Santana closed the door and fastened the deadbolt before turning. As she did, the face of Quinn's mother was a picture. She was obviously upset and relieved to see Rachel but also astonished at the Latina.

"Santana?" she released Rachel and moved to hug the taller woman.

"Mrs Fabray, good to see you again."

"What's going on? Why are you with Rachel and is that a gun strapped to you?"

She looked from one brunette to the other and back again.

"I'm a detective with the State Police in Columbus, I didn't know about Quinn until this morning when I was assigned to protect Rachel. I'm sorry about what happened to her and I wish I could do more to help."

"Santana, please. You're doing more than enough." Rachel gave her arm a squeeze. "We just came from the hospital in Columbus, but had to stop off at the Sherriff's office in town. Is Richard here?"

"Yes, come through. Have you eaten yet?"

"No Ma'am," the young detective replied.

"You don't need to Ma'am me Santana," Judy waited until the Latina nodded her head in acknowledgement. We are just about to have dinner, please join us; there's plenty." She headed through to the dining room and introduced Santana to Richard, a pleasant-looking man in his fifties at a guess. He was smartly dressed, as was Judy.

Explanations went on for a while before Judy insisted they sit down and eat with them. Were it not for the unusual circumstances, it would have been a very pleasant evening. Santana took time to explain her role and the procedures in place at the hospital so Judy and Richard could visit safely. She also told them that it was unlikely they would be followed or attacked, bearing in mind Rachel had been the target, but gave them her number and advice about what to do if they thought they were being watched or followed at any time.

"What do we do?"

"If you think someone is following you in your car for example, do not come home, drive straight to the nearest Sherriff's or Police office and explain. If you can write down the license plate numbers of cars you don't recognize parked on the street. I don't want you to be paranoid, but do be careful and alert. Until we get the guy, we need to be vigilant. If anything, and by that I mean anything seems a little off at all, let me know straight away. That means whatever time of the day or night, call me. I won't be far away."

The stop at the Berry's was even more emotional and both were glad to leave an hour later. Mr and Mr Berry were almost insistent that Rachel stay with them and Santana wondered why she didn't, but as they drove away found out.

"I don't want either of them hurt if anything happens. It's safer for them if I stay away for now."

It was a sobering thought.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: the last chapter was a little short i know. This one is longer.

The usual disclaimer applies

* * *

Chapter 5

At the rehab center, Quinn had woken after a couple of hours when her dinner had arrived but she wasn't hungry and only picked at it. A couple of staff arrived to help her shower, but one was sent away as soon as they realized she was capable of doing it for herself. The other one hung around in case she fell, but otherwise let her cope alone. Drying herself down proved more problematic and Quinn had forgotten how hard it was or how embarrassing when someone had to step in and help. She hissed with discomfort as the aide dried the damaged part of her back; the towel, which was less than soft and fluffy, ran across the still healing scars. She had three now. There was the original surgical incision from where the doctors had operated after the car accident almost a decade ago running vertically from her waist to hips. It had long since faded, but the metal pins and screws were still there. The only bonus from the stabbing was that the stiffness and discomfort she often felt in her lower back was now absent, permanently. The scar from the stabbing was still healing and ran horizontally across the area where her bra strap would normally fasten. It wasn't very long, only about two inches, but it had been deep and penetrating. The scab was still evident and was keeping her from the pool until it healed more. Finally there was the new surgical scar where the neurosurgeon had gone in to assess and repair what he could, only to find the cord was severed and he could do little but sew up the membrane around the cord to prevent leakage of cerebral-spinal fluid and then suture the layers of skin that had been cut. She wondered what it looked like now, but no one had let her see it yet and it was right in that awkward, hard to reach spot. She wanted to scratch at it now it was healing; the itching drove her crazy.

After her shower, she had been helped to change into her sleepwear and made comfortable. She had wanted to sleep again, but received a visit from Elise.

They shook hands and Elise explained that she had missed her earlier because she was sleeping. "You could have woken me," the blonde suggested.

"I didn't have the heart after you arrived in the middle of the night."

"You know the full story?"

Elise shook her head.

"Do you want to?"

"That's up to you, I don't need to know, but if you want to talk to me, I am happy to listen."

Quinn surprised herself and recounted the whole story, giving Elise an explanation for many things, like Quinn's advanced skills in managing her body for someone so newly injured and why her wife was so worried earlier.

"You spoke to Rachel?"

"I did. We have counseling available and a number of seminars for family members that I wanted to let her know about. I wasn't sure about your family beyond your wife, but some of them may apply to your parents or siblings as well. Please let her know to pass on the information to them if it is of benefit."

"My Mom and stepdad will want to be involved and possibly Rachel's parents." Quinn was thoughtful. "Did … I'm sorry I forgot her name, the OT. She said she was going to see me about a new program."

"Larissa?"

"That's right, I was expecting to see her again today. It's been so busy, sorry if I sound a bit dopey."

"It's fine, you had a lot to take in. I'll email Larissa when we are done, but she will have gone home by now."

"Why are you still here? It's late," Quinn stated the obvious.

"I wanted to meet you and check you were doing okay."

"I'm tired, but apart from that I'm fine. I have dealt with this before so I know the ropes."

"That doesn't mean you aren't entitled to feel the same way everyone else would about this."

"I know all about the four stages of grief and I have been through them all in the last three weeks. It's funny really, knowing what is coming up for me and yet feeling so very different than I did last time. I am lucky to be alive, twice now I have cheated death and it's actually liberating. I am worried about the stalker and Rachel's safety. I am concerned that we won't be able to go back to New York and my job, which I love. I am worried about coming back to Ohio because I thought that part of my life was over. But I am not worried about being able to cope with my injury or a wheelchair. I did it before and I can do it again. I know it's different this time and that I won't recover, but I also know that it's not as bad as people imagine and I don't have to go through that process of thinking my life is over because I know for a fact that it isn't. It's going to change but it's not over."

"Feel better?"

"Yes!" Quinn's face broke into a grin then. "Sorry, I used to be pretty bitchy when I was younger. I think maybe it's being back in Ohio – I swear it brings out the worst in me."

Elise laughed at her this time. "I had this speech all prepared for you about exactly that. Can I roll you out next time we have an admission and you can let them know instead."

Quinn smiled and nodded. "If I can help, feel free to ask. I wouldn't want to metaphorically step on anyone's toes though."

"That's a good one, I haven't heard that one before."

"You're not allowed to steal my jokes," she chuckled. "It's good to have people working here who understand," she nodded at the wheelchair Elise was sat in. "Last time this happened, I didn't really feel like anyone else understood. I was the youngest person in rehab and I think the only girl with a spinal injury."

"They are pretty good at employing people here who have experienced rehab for themselves. It helps clients understand there is life beyond injury and for me, I enjoy helping people get back their life, whatever that may be."

"That's nice. Can I ask what happened to you?"

"Fell out of a tree. I was a tree surgeon. My recovery was pretty hard going and there was no chance of going back to that so I switched track, went back to school and came to work here afterwards. It's more rewarding in a way, but I still miss the freedom of my old life sometimes."

"I guess that's inevitable. I suppose I can go back to my job, if they will have me. That's if we can go back to New York at all. I am not sure Rachel will even want to go back. She is feeling pretty burned by it right now."

"Your circumstances are very unique, but I don't think you should be worried about that now. I'll let you rest and see you tomorrow."

"Bye, Elise. Thanks for your time."

"Pleasure." She turned and wheeled out the door. Quinn noticed the wheelchair again and made a point to ask her about it the next day. She was dammed if she was going to roll around in some crappy heap of junk for any longer than she had to and instead of going to sleep, she turned on her laptop and starting looking at pictures.

-THE VIPs-

Rachel had a fitful sleep haunted by the attack and Quinn's current situation. When she arrived downstairs the next morning, dark circles remained under her eyes. Santana looked at her as she placed down a mug of coffee. Rachel sipped at it and then pulled a face.

"That's really strong."

"My specialty. It's what I drink on stake-outs or night duty. You look like you could use it."

"That's what I love about you, brutally honest, emphasis on the brutal."

"Hey, I'm still me," she shrugged. "I guess you get a lot of ass-kissers hanging around you normally."

Rachel smiled at that. There were a lot of fake people in the industry; that was true. "Some," she agreed.

"Well don't expect that from me. Oh and it was nice to see the smile back on your face there."

The petite brunette grinned at her old school friend. "I would never expect that of you." She paused. "I might need your muscle though." She sighed heavily. "I need to start rearranging furniture."

"Why today? There's no rush. Take some time; go see your dad's or whatever. It's going to be a while before Q gets out of the hospital."

Rachel smiled sadly at the use of her wife's old nickname. It reminded her of their time in school together. She thought in her head about referring to it as a simpler time, which would have been appropriate for most people under the circumstances, but actually that wasn't true of their time in school; especially in Quinn's case.

She shook her head. "If Quinn is anything, she's ambitious. She'll be out of there in half the time they say. Besides, I need something to occupy myself with before visiting hours and I need to feel vaguely useful."

"I can help, but neither of us were made with lugging furniture around. Don't you want to hire someone?"

"I don't want word getting out that I'm here. If anyone comes over, it has to be when I'm out and someone we trust implicitly."

Santana looked at Rachel for a moment.

"There are only two guys left in this town that I trust implicitly. Puck and Karofsky. Neither would let anything happen to you or Quinn."

"Noah I get, but Karofsky?"

"You have two things in your favor there. Firstly he's gay, so he's going to be on your side. Secondly, he's a police officer here." Santana relaxed into her chair. "So you and Fabgay. I always thought maybe you both were but you spent all that time fighting over Finn."

Rachel's face softened at the mention of that name. "You called him Finn," she commented.

It was Santana's turn to be embarrassed. "Yeah well, even I don't speak ill of the dead." Her eyes dropped.

"You miss him."

"This whole town misses him. Do you?"

"Part of me will always love him, Quinn feels the same too. I wasn't in love with him in the end, but I wish more than anything he was still with us."

Santana shook off her brief melancholy. "So how did the two of you hook up? I'm really out of the loop here."

"We visited each other a few times when were in college. Each time we got drunk we would fall around laughing about how we used to be rivals and then one time we just sort of looked at each other and kissed like it was the most natural thing in the world. I guess something just clicked over in both our heads at the same time and that was it. Quinn moved to New York for graduate school and I started work before I had even graduated so we just fitted our lives together. You really are out of the loop. What happened to you? You loved gossip."

"I'm sure it caused a stir in the big city, but this is Ohio and I was busy." Santana said no more, though Rachel guessed there was more to say, but she either wasn't in the mood or didn't trust her enough yet.

"How's your love life?"

Santana looked physically pained at that question. "Don't even ask. Law enforcement has a poor track record where relationships are concerned for good reason."

"Sorry I asked."

Santana chuckled. "Don't be. I have a no screwing around policy at work and I'm not into women with flat tops. I hate internet dating. It doesn't leave me much opportunity to meet people in these parts. Gay bars in Ohio are generally not the sort of place you want to hang out in if you are on the force. I'd probably have to arrest half the patrons before that night is over." She rolled her eyes and Rachel laughed out loud this time. Santana smiled at hearing her friend laugh and changed the subject. "What time do you want to go to the hospital?"

"It's around an hour to get there so I guess just after lunch."

The taller woman nodded. "I'm guessing you won't want to be eating out, so I was going to suggest arranging for some groceries to be delivered?"

Rachel shook her head. "Judy said she would take care of it for me. She's going to come over later and stock the refrigerator for us."

Santana turned up her nose. "Tell me you aren't still vegan."

Rachel smiled. "Vegetarian now. Quinn had a moderating effect on me."

"Better than nothing I guess."

"Don't worry, Judy knows you eat meat and so long as I don't have to prepare it, I don't object to you having it. Knowing my dad's, they'll be over with take-out half the time anyway."

-THE VIPs-

Quinn ate breakfast quickly, leaving the terrible scrambled eggs untouched, she just had the fruit and the bagel from the tray. The OJ was acceptable and coffee was absent. She had to get Rachel to sneak her some in. She knew of course why it was missing, but that didn't stop her craving it after three weeks without any. Coffee messed with the digestive system and when you had no control of that system, it was a bad combination. A shiver ran up her spine. That was what she was trying not to think about. When she had been injured in high school, the same sick feeling had passed over her as they explained she was going to have to learn to manage her bladder and bowels. It had been humiliating enough peeing in a bag, but when they explained how to manually evacuate her bowels, she had literally puked. By the time she went back to school, she had gained enough feeling and control that she hadn't been lying when she said all her plumbing worked. It was different this time though. It wasn't going to work ever again. She was back to peeing in a bag for the time being and later that morning the words 'bowel routine' would hit home.

"Suck it up Fabray," she spoke to herself. "No one likes a cry-baby."

She felt like crying though when the nurse arrived with paraphernalia for the bowel routine a little while later.

-THE VIPs-

Angela arrived after she was dressed for two hours of torture in the gym. Again her arms were burning when she returned to her room for lunch. Larissa arrived as she was eating a sandwich.

"Sorry, I didn't know you were due at this time. Did I read the schedule wrong?"

"No I came to bring the revised program for you. I'll be back later as normal but I wanted to get this to you for you to look at and see if you are happy with it. Feel free to make suggestions though. We'll go at your pace."

"Thanks." Quinn took a final bite and wiped her hands before taking the printed sheet from the OT. "Five weeks?"

Larissa nodded.

"Wow, that's fast," Quinn replied softly.

"I think most things will just be a reminder for you and obviously PT is key for you to get strong enough to manage everything, but mostly we just need to tick things off and make sure you have good habits before you leave. If you're ready sooner, we'll let you go sooner."

Quinn nodded thoughtfully, looking over the details. Larissa asked her if she had dressed herself and she nodded affirmatively without thinking too much. "Yeah, I was a little slow with the bottom half but I managed. Oh that reminds me," the blonde picked up her laptop. "This is the chair I want. I looked at tons last night and checked out the reviews. This one seems to fit the bill, but I wasn't sure if I should get the adjustable version."

Larissa looked at Quinn's choice. "TiLite. I would suggest the ZR. I don't think you will need adjustable. We just need to make sure it fits."

"Okay, but why not the adjustable one? I thought maybe I might need to make changes."

"Your injury isn't likely to change much if at all. You'll get stronger, but not any more able, if that makes sense."

Quinn recognized what she was saying and the finality of her situation took effect. The tears rolled down her cheeks silently. She wiped them away quickly and apologized. "I've been making noises that suggested I knew this, but I don't think it really hit home until just now."

"Don't apologize. You may have been through this before, but it doesn't lessen the enormity of what you are dealing with."

"I just keeping saying 'man up' to myself, but it doesn't seem to be working any."

"You can let go and have a good cry. You're entitled to do that."

Quinn nodded. Maybe she would later when she was on her own.

"I'll get the rep to come and see you so we can order the chair."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Rachel found Quinn distraught when she arrived at lunchtime. Realizing that the blonde was having a meltdown, Santana excused herself, closing the room door and waited in the hall to give them some privacy. She held her breath for a few moments until the wave of anger passed out of her; she could do that now. The department had insisted she do something about her anger issues and so she had seen a counsellor who had taught her how to control the flare ups of bad temper. Things had eased when she didn't have to pretend to be someone she wasn't anymore, but she still had rage at gross unfairness.

Larissa came along the corridor a few minutes later. She greeted Santana who blocked the doorway.

"Can you let them have a few minutes, Q's pretty upset. Something must have kicked off this morning."

"She had a few tears earlier when I spoke to her."

"What did you tell her?"

"Nothing new, I think she's just been holding everything in and trying to stay strong. She admitted as much when we talked about the new chair."

"That would do it I guess. She worked so hard to get out of the damned thing in school. They weren't sure she was going to recover and for weeks it didn't look like she was making any progress, then she surprised us all on prom night by standing up to sing. I was right next to her chair and we were singing Take My Breath Away while Rachel danced with the prom king and next thing I know she grabbed the microphone stand and pulled herself up. I almost stopped singing, but she just powered on through the applause. I could see she was a bit shaky still so I wrapped my arm around her for support." Santana shook her head a little sadly. "She was on crutches for a week or so, then just back walking after that. By the time we went to nationals she was dancing."

"Nationals?"

"Show choir, we won as well. It was pretty much the best time of my life."

"And now?"

"We have to put her back together again." Santana let her head drop back against the door and she sighed wearily. "Can't let her wallow, right?"

"That's right," Larissa replied. "Shall we?"

The detective opened the door tentatively and caught the pair in an embrace. The blonde quickly wiped her face and blew her nose in an attempt to appear normal. Rachel just took hold of her hand when she was done.

"Better?" The OT asked.

Quinn just nodded.

"Good. I spoke to the rep for you. He can be here tomorrow at eleven. He has a demo chair for you to use for a couple of days so you can try it out and make any changes you want before ordering your own." Larissa was all business. "Did you look over the plan?"

"It looks fine," Quinn finally spoke, her voice slight croaky to begin with but got stronger. "The sooner I get out of here the better. No offence."

"Ready to get down to some work?"

"Yeah. What are we doing today?"

"We're just going to take a tour around so I can see how you handle yourself in general and anything that gives you issues can go to the top of the to do list. Don't think I'm being overly critical if I give you some advice as you go. There are probably some things you forgot in the years since you were injured before."

Quinn liked Larissa's manner. It was no nonsense and all business. She didn't engage in the emotional stuff; it wasn't her job after all. She just had to get her ready to deal with the world beyond the rehab center and that couldn't involve getting mushy all the time.

Sliding from bed to chair was straight forward and Larissa watched carefully.

"Try to lift rather than slide. I know you are probably tired in the shoulders from PT but it helps to avoid getting your clothes dragged out of place."

Adjusting clothes in the chair was hard so it made sense. Quinn nodded and put more effort into lifting her hips into place instead.

They set off down the hallway, Santana and Rachel following behind, staying out of the way and talking while watching what was going on. Quinn led the way, with Larissa right behind. They came to the first set of fire doors and Quinn went for the handle as instructed rather than the power button and tried to open it single-handed and keep the other on the wheel so she could push the chair forwards with one hand while pulling the door open with the other. There was nothing wrong with her technique, it was just too heavy and didn't cooperate; the effort would have folded her in half if hadn't been for the plastic brace surrounding her weak trunk muscles. Changing plans, the blonde pushed against the second door while pulling the first and found that she could get the door open enough to force her way through, but the wide chair didn't help and the door closed onto the back wheel as she scraped through.

Turning to Larissa she asked for some pointers, but the OT didn't have any. "It's a heavy door, you did the right thing. Sometimes they aren't powered and even when they are, the button doesn't always work. Good job."

They continued. "I know this chair isn't very supportive, but you are getting a little slouched. You need to recognize when this is happening and adjust your position."

Quinn glanced down and saw her thighs were a little further apart than they had been. She pushed up on the back wheels and forced her back as close to the rest as possible. She didn't feel any different at first, except being a bit taller in the seat, but her thighs had fallen together again so she took note of this. It would help her to notice when she needed to make adjustments.

"Also, you're pushing the rims, which is okay, but you get a better grip from the tires, especially on rougher terrain or slopes. I think we'll try a ramp next so you can practice. "

They headed for an external door to go outside. Santana immediately jumped in front of them.

"Hold on a minute. Where are you going?"

"Just outside to practice using ramps," Larissa looked confused.

"That's not in the protocol," she reminded Quinn.

The blonde wanted to say screw the damn protocol but she could see the worry etched on Rachel's face and just nodded. "Yeah, I guess there must be one inside somewhere?"

Larissa had forgotten the protocol and immediately apologized before rethinking and turning them around to head towards the exercise room which had what they needed. Quinn didn't think any more about it, but Santana held the OT back slightly and gave her a stern look.

"I know, you don't have to say anything," she kept her voice low. "It's just so easy to forget with her because she wants to try things out and is way ahead of where she should be right now."

Santana understood and despite being concerned that the arrangements might have been rendered useless, she also knew the blonde well enough. "That's the story of her life."

-THE VIPs-

Rachel attended her first training session that afternoon with two other women. One a girlfriend and the other a mother.

It was about the changes that they should expect in their family member as a result of their injuries. It was all very generic but as they began to talk about some of their experiences so far, it was clear they had common ground. The difference was that for the other two, the danger had passed.

When she was finished, she collected Santana from outside the room and they made their way back to Quinn.

"How was it?"

"Good actually. The other people in there were in a similar position."

"Do you feel any better?"

"A little, thanks for asking."

Santana paused briefly and caught Rachel's arm. "Look, Rachel, I'm worried about you. I've never seen you like this."

"Like what?"

"Empty. I've seen you happy, mad, sad, bad, crazy, even completely unhinged, but I've never seen you look haunted."

Rachel briefly thought about arguing, but her old friend's face had softened.

She sighed deeply and let out a tear. Just the one, but it was enough for Santana to reach out to her and give her a hug. The tears then started to flow freely, for Quinn, for herself and for the life they had back in New York.

After leaving the hospital, Santana took a call. She glanced at Rachel and put the caller on hold. "They want us at the Police station in Lima."

Rachel turned. "What for?"

"They have some news and want to see you regarding the case."

-THE VIPs-

Santana had her doubts about Rachel's state of mind but the Broadway star wanted to go ahead with the meeting.

They went into the station and waited for the officer who wanted to speak to them. An FBI agent came in along with a younger officer who was instantly recognizable.

"David?"

Rachel was astounded, perhaps more so than when she had been reunited with Santana. David Karofsky, who had bullied them through three years of high school only to leave and become the subject of bullying himself, stood before her holding out his hand.

"Are you okay with me calling you Rachel?" He offered her a sympathetic smile.

"Of course. I don't understand what's going on here, but please just treat me like you would anyone else in this situation."

"Rach, this is Agent Saunderson." Santana introduced the middle aged man in the suit, then turned to David. "Hey, Karofsky."

"Good to see you again Santana," Dave replied as they shook hands. "I wish it were in different circumstances obviously though." He turned back to the shorted woman. "Rachel, we have an update and an advisory from the New York FBI office."

Agent Saunderson addressed her. "Ms Berry, we have news from the lead investigator, but not definitive proof just yet. I have been asked to provide you with six photographs and I want you to pick out anyone that you know." He turned over the pictures and looked up to see a puzzled expression on her face. "Anything?"

"Just this one," she pointed out. "He works in one of the theatres I used to work in. Is this him?" Rachel's heart started beating at what felt like a thousand times a minute.

"Just tell me more about him."

"I don't remember anything really. I am trying to recall his name but nothing is coming to mind. He works on ...let me think ... 42nd Street, the show I mean, not the actual street. I didn't play in it for long, but I recognize him. He was one of the lighting technicians."

She looked at Agent Saunderson for more.

"It's someone we are looking closely at but we don't have enough for a search warrant let alone a reason to charge him, but it goes without saying if you see or hear from him, call 911 immediately."

"What makes you suspect him?"

"He disappeared just after the attack and hasn't been back to work since. He called in sick and then claimed his mother had been taken seriously ill and quit. Of course it could be the truth, but it also looks suspicious with the timing."

"Why was this brought to your attention? Do people know what happened?"

"No, just our discreet enquiries in the theater district of anything suspicious. This is our best lead yet."

"What is his name? It's bugging me that I can't remember."

"Arnold Santorini."

"We're going to track him down and find out why he quit first. We'll be in touch."

He got up, took the photos and left, leaving the petite brunette thoughtful. "This is what it's going to be like until they find the needle in the haystack, isn't it?" She looked at Santana for confirmation.

"It's just a lead, Rach. Don't give too much credence to it. There tend to be a lot of dead ends in something like this."

"Because it could be anyone." It wasn't a question.

"Probably someone you have met at least and maybe had an interaction with, but meant far more to him than it did to you. There is also the possibility that it is a complete stranger."

"Rachel?" Karofsky had a question. "It is definitely a man we're looking for, right? No chance it could be another woman?"

"I know what you're thinking, David, but the attacker was a man. Quinn remembered knocking into his chest to push him away and there were no boobs, he also had a hoodie on so his face was shrouded too much to recognize but you could see stubble on his chin. It just looked like a man from the shape as well; he was very tall and had broad shoulders."

Dave nodded and glanced up at Santana. "Thanks for coming in today. I guess it's been a long day for you both. How is Quinn?"

Santana let Rachel answer that one.

"She's amazing as always," her wife responded, "but still in shock. I guess we both are. This is all my fault so I just wish..."

"No!" Dave was quite adamant. "Stalking is never the victims fault, Rachel. I'm sorry this is happening. Please give Quinn my best wishes when you see her tomorrow."

"Thank you David."

"We had patrol running circles round your neighborhood today and nothing suspicious to report so that's a positive sign that no one has followed you here as far as we know."

Rachel gave him a nod of gratitude.

"Let us know straight away if there is anything." He thought for a moment, patted his chest pocket and pulled out a card, wrote something on the back and handed it to Rachel. "My cell, if you need anything."

She smiled hesitantly at him. "Everyone is being so nice. It's good to be home. Can I ask you though, why the Police?"

"I got a taste of my own medicine and I didn't like it much. Gave me empathy for victims of crime and hatred. If I could find this guy right now I swear I'd rip his head off for what he's done to Quinn and what he's doing to you."

Rachel reached out and placed her hand on his. "No violence on my behalf please, but thank you."

"We all have to stick together right?"

She didn't know if he was referring to the fact that were at school together, were from the same town or their sexual orientation, but she nodded her agreement anyway.

-THE VIPs-

Three days later, in the middle of watching Quinn's aqua therapy session, Santana's phone went off, echoing round the pool. She rushed to answer it and almost dropped it as a result.

Rachel was stood beside the pool giving Quinn some encouragement, but turned to look at her friend instead. She went white when she heard Santana growl the word "shit" followed by a pause, then "Rach, we have a problem."

Quinn heard that as well. She made the therapist stop for a moment. "What's wrong?" All their nerves were on edge but this made them go into hyperdrive.

"It's okay, don't panic, Q." Santana realized that the slightest issue sent the pair of them into panic mode. "That was Karofsky. He took a call from the local rag. Someone might have seen you and they want to know what's going on. A reporter was seen sniffing round your house and got picked up by a squad car for acting suspicious, but now the guy is wanting details."

Rachel sighed. This was what she had wanted to avoid. Word getting out that was back in town could be dangerous.

"We should go," Santana suggested.

Quinn looked angry all of a sudden and she smashed her fists into the water in frustration. The last thing she wanted was to give their location away with her stuck in rehab still.

"Rach, if you need to leave town, just go. We'll meet up again when I'm done in a few weeks. I'll be fine here, but I don't want him finding you."

Santana watched the brief exchange, saw Rachel shake her head slowly as if this simply was unacceptable and turn back to her. "Let's go sort this out. I can get a court order if I have to squash this."

-THE VIPs-

Rachel stomped into the precinct and then into a meeting room already talking before she actually paused to realize that in an office chair and looking like someone had kicked him in the nuts was Jacob Ben Israel.

"I knew it was true," the bespectacled reporter celebrated and then immediately shut up when he caught the look on Karofsky's face.

He had changed very little in the intervening years since high school, Rachel noted, apart from the Afro, which was now cropped much shorter and made him less ridiculous looking than he had been in the past and a decent pair of glasses sans Band Aid holding them together.

"Jacob? What's going on here? Why are you snooping around my house?"

"The more important question is why a little publicity is bothering a major Broadway superstar in the first place and why are the Police circling the block around your house?"

Jacob felt a large hand clamp onto his shoulder. "Listen up, Mr Ben Israel. I thought we agreed that you weren't going to be asking any questions but would be answering plenty."

"What do you want, Jacob?"

"My sources say you have been seen with your personal bodyguard in the neighborhood. I must say that I didn't realize it was the equally gorgeous but scary Santana Lopez, but I digress. The rumor mill suggests you and your wife are having marital problems and you have returned home to Lima with your tail between your legs."

Santana moved towards him and neither Rachel nor Karofsky made an attempt to stop her. Taking hold of the neck of his t-shirt, she growled at him. "Listen up you little pervert, Rachel is not having marital difficulties and it's _Detective_ Lopez to you."

For a moment Jacob looked a little shocked, then a sly grin spread across his smug face. "Detective? Now I really am intrigued. If this isn't a marital problem, why is Rachel under the protection of law enforcement? This is so much better than the story I had planned."

Karofsky intervened and grabbed his shoulder. "Talk."

"I never reveal my sources," Jacob countered, then felt the pain of Karofsky's fingers digging into him. "Alright, I admit I was listening on a police scanner and heard some chatter about checking on the Fabray residence. I put two and two together."

"And got twenty two instead of four," Rachel commented wryly. "Is that all you know?"

"I found out you ate vegetarian pizza so your dietary habits have been modified since I last interviewed you."

"Pizza delivery squealed," Santana muttered to Karofsky.

"I know something is going on and I am going to run what I know so far tomorrow."

"You aren't running anything you slimeball." Santana was ready to go all Lima Heights at that moment.

"Jacob, forgive Santana for her being protective." Rachel sighed. "I will get a court order to stop you publishing anything to do with me if you intend to run anything about my return to Lima, but I hope that won't be necessary after I appeal to your better nature, or at least to your journalistic instincts."

"I'm listening," he replied.

"Will you hold the story indefinitely if I tell you that you would be putting someone's life on the line if you do?"

"That depends on whose life."

"Mine," she sighed.

Jacob looked genuinely stunned. "What's going on here? If I'm going to sit on this I need to know why."

"I am being pursued by a stalker who attempted to stab me a few weeks ago. I have returned here to avoid publicity until he is caught by the FBI."

"What about your wife? How is the delectable Ms Fabray coping without you around? No hint of a marital dispute?"

"Leave Quinn out of this Jacob." Santana hissed at him.

"I sense a raw nerve there. I take it she is less than happy that you have left her in New York. The pizza boy said he delivered two pizzas not three so I know she isn't here with you."

Rachel sighed. "This is all off the record Jacob, are we clear on that?"

"If I hold the story until the stalker is caught, can I run all this afterwards?"

"I don't care what you print about me after he is caught, but I can't speak for Quinn, you will have to ask her. She is in hospital; she was stabbed in the attack trying to protect me."

Jacob's face fell as he heard the news. "Rachel, I'm sorry. I didn't realize." He turned to Santana. "That's why you're here as well, protection?"

The taller brunette nodded. "Jacob, I swear if you say anything to let this get out, I will hunt you down and slice off your balls, are we clear?"

"Relax, I'm not going to print something that could put Rachel's life in danger." He turned back to Rachel. "I'll hold the story. I won't even speak to anyone about it, I swear. This isn't a bargaining chip, but will you let me know if they catch him?"

"I get how this works Jacob. You scratch my back and I scratch yours." Rachel nodded. "When it's over I'll talk to you."

"If you let me write about this after it's over, it wouldn't hurt my reputation, but I'm not blackmailing you. I'm not fifteen anymore."

"Like I said. I don't care once he's caught, but right now Quinn is my priority and I could do without having to go to court to stop you."

"There's no need, I give you my word. You might want to check on the pizza guy though, all I had to do to get him to talk was promise him a free ad. I'll tell my editor that it was a non-story, just a new security system being fitted."

"Thank you, Jacob." Rachel let out the anxious breath she had been holding.

"Give Quinn my best wishes. I hope she's better soon."

"Thank you. I will."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

At home later, Rachel took herself to bed early, leaving Santana up watching a movie. She put in a call to her mom around nine just to let her know she was on assignment and wouldn't have much time off for a while. Finally she toured the house, checking all the locks on windows and doors, then setting the alarm for the ground floor. As she climbed the stairs, she heard a noise from Rachel's room. Closing in on the door, she recognized the sound of sobbing and hung her head in sadness. She'd had a rep for being cold-hearted in school, but it was just a disguise. She tapped lightly on the door.

"Rach can I come in and check the locks on the window?"

She heard sniffing and a nose being blown.

"Come in," came a husky reply.

She turned the handle and entered. "Sorry, I'll just be a minute."

"It's alright. I was just having a good cry."

"I heard. Feel better now?"

"Not really. I'm so scared all the time and I just want to curl up in bed next to Quinn and have her hold me and tell me everything will be okay but I can't." Rachel descended into tears again.

Santana dropped onto the bed beside her friend and wrapped an arm around her. "I'm not Quinn, but I can hold you and tell you that everything will be okay."

Through her tears Rachel mumbled. "I feel like I can't trust anyone anymore."

"You can trust me, Rach. I won't let anything happen to you. I promised your wife and she's scarier than me when she's pissed so I got plenty of motivation." Santana chuckled to herself and Rachel joined her even though the tears continued for a while.

"Do you think she's going to be okay? I know she's amazingly brave and putting up a good front, but I can't see how she can be happy from here on."

"It's going to take more than a wheelchair to stop Quinn Fabray. I think she's going to be okay and so long as she has you, she'll be happy."

-THE VIPs-

The detective and her charge arrived at the hospital the following day to find Quinn stretched out on her bed. She had just finished eating lunch and was resting before her afternoon session with Larissa. The blonde was distracted by the music blaring in her headphones, which she was singing along to. Her eyes were closed and she just didn't realize the door to her room had been opened.

Sensing something, the hazel eyes popped open and she was briefly startled at the sight of two people in her room until she recognized who it was a moment later.

Pulling off the headphones, she dropped them beside her. "Oh my God! I almost had a heart attack. You scared me half to death."

Rachel chuckled and leaned over to give her a kiss. "Don't blame me, you had the music turned way up. I was enjoying listening to your voice though. It's been a while since I heard you sing like that."

Quinn blushed a little. "I guess. Hey San." The blonde acknowledged her friend. "How was everything yesterday?"

"All sorted, nothing to worry about."

Quinn turned back to Rachel as Santana cleared away the rolling table with her lunch items. "Really? What about this journalist?"

"It was Jacob. I explained and he agreed to squash it until this is over. He was remarkably amenable once I explained the danger he could place us in. He asked me to send his best wishes to you."

"Is he still a creepy little pervert?"

"No," Rachel said.

"Yes!" Santana contradicted her. "Until we straightened him out. Then he was okay."

"I saw Dave Karofsky too, he's a police officer as well now. Can you believe it? He was very supportive."

"Karofsky? What is it with gay cops in this town? Is it one of the job requirements?" Quinn gave Santana a wink.

The Latina smirked at her. "Funny, Fabray. Keep that up and you're on your own."

-THE VIPs-

Larissa entered the room to laughter and what could only be described as witty banter. She heard the detective snort with derision at something and her patient actually laughed out loud. She guessed they were teasing each other like old friends did.

"Seems like we're all in a good mood this afternoon?"

She received a grin from all three of them to answer her question.

"I guess it's work time?" Quinn sighed a little.

"I'm afraid so. Sorry to break up the party."

Quinn nodded. She took the remote control and started to lower the back of the bed down. "Rach can you pass the shell, please?"

Rachel glanced at the hard plastic brace Quinn was forced to wear for the time being. She picked it up from the easy chair it was lying on beside the bed and unfastened the straps. Larissa walked around the opposite side of the bed and helped Quinn roll onto her side so the brace could slide under her back and then allowed her to roll back into it once Rachel had positioned it properly. Quinn thanked her wife and took the top half, pulling it across her chest and then threading the Velcro through the back to fasten it tightly.

Santana watched through the whole process. She was beginning to understand the new injury better. Quinn was now paralyzed from her chest down. She had no use of her abdominal muscles or the other core trunk muscles that allowed control and balance while sitting. Nor could her friend lean sideways as yet to pick things up. They had left her with not just the board to help her move from one place to another, but also a long handled grab tool so she could pick stuff up when she dropped it. The last thing they wanted was her falling out of the chair in an attempt to grab a fallen remote control or similar. It was painful almost to watch the inert body being moved around.

San found the transfer board near where she was sat. She grabbed it and handed it to Quinn as the blonde raised the back of the bed again ready to transfer back into the waiting wheelchair.

"New wheels I see?"

"Demo chair. I have it for three days."

"How is it?"

"Harder than I remembered," the blonde admitted with a deep sigh. "I'm just less stable that's all."

"It will get easier," Larissa assured her. "A better backrest will help as well. Did you look at what I showed you yesterday?"

Quinn nodded. "Go ahead and order it." She turned to Rachel. "It's kind of solid not fabric. They are a little pricey. I hope it's alright."

"Whatever you need," Rachel assured her. "Well except for the purple leopard skin upholstery."

Quinn just laughed and prepared to move herself into the waiting wheelchair.

-THE VIPs-

Rachel listened to the backing track and sighed. She wasn't happy with it. Firing off an email to her producer, she questioned the ability of the musical director to read simple instructions. A firmly worded email was produced and sent without much of the usual formality that accompanied an email from Rachel Berry.

She placed the headphones down on the desk and ran a hand through her long hair. She waited for news each morning, hoping that the FBI or police would have the information she so desperately needed. It was hard to stay away from everyone. She wanted to go to McKinley and see Mr Schue, she wanted to have dinner at Breadstix and coffee at the Lima Bean. She wanted to be able to live a normal life again.

And then she was wracked with guilt.

It was selfish, she knew that. She was thinking about herself again and not Quinn. When they were apart for a few hours at a time, it was easy for her to forget that everything had changed. Six months ago, they had the perfect life. Living and working in Manhattan, socializing with their friends, going out to dinner most nights, seeing shows together, walking through Central Park, arm in arm. What would they do after this was all over? Would they ever learn to trust a stranger or would they always be looking over their shoulders wondering if the person walking behind them was about to attack without cause. Would they still have friends after leaving town and not telling anyone where they had gone? Even if they did, would they turn away from the couple now that one of them had a disability. Apparently that happened a lot, she had read it in the literature from the support meeting she went to. Would Quinn be able to get into places still in her wheelchair? Would people assume wrongly that Rachel wasn't her wife, rather her nurse now? Why did everything go so horribly wrong for them? What had they done wrong that meant they deserved this? Question after question invaded the brunette's mind but the answers had remained elusive in the weeks since the attack.

-THE VIPs-

Santana and Rachel arrived the following day to see Quinn. Rachel had to support group meeting and so she was safely tucked up with a security guard in the hallway outside for an hour leaving the young detective with spare time for the first time in a week. It hadn't felt like a week, it seemed interminable, not that the Broadway star was hard to spend time with, just the situation; not knowing when or where the problem would be solved.

Santana wandered along to see Quinn in the gym. She was currently strapped into one of the weight training machines. This one had a seat with a high back and a lat pull down bar being tightly gripped by the blonde's hands.

"Bondage from the chastity queen, who would have thought?" Santana bore a Machiavellian grin across her face.

"Seriously?" Quinn puffed in annoyance.

"You're strapped into a torture device, what can I say?"

Hazel eyes rolled in a circle. "Have you just come here to have a dig at me or is there a real purpose to your visit?" Quinn was tetchy.

"Relax, I was just yanking your chain. Rachel's in that group thing with security parked outside so I thought I'd come see how you are."

Quinn squeezed her eyes shut, a little sigh escaping. Her wife had to attend a support group and she was strapped to a chair, unable to move anything from her boobs down all because a monster destroyed their life.

"How am I? Mostly unable, as you can see." A puff of air escaped the pink lips and blew the hair from her eyes as they glanced down at the straps holding her legs and chest in place on the seat. The empty wheelchair sat beside her.

"Q, please don't be like that."

"Like what?"

"I can't stand to see you go there again." Santana dropped into the empty seat of the wheelchair. "Being defeatist isn't going to help, so I have to ask. Has the cheerfulness so far been an act to make your wife feel better?"

"What?" Quinn looked momentarily surprised. "I haven't been faking anything, just today, well it's a month exactly since the …," her voice broke and a tear rolled down Quinn's pale face. She inhaled and gathered herself. "Why does this have to be so hard, San?" she scrubbed at her cheeks to remove the saline.

The Latina, had a neutral expression. "There's no point in asking questions like that, Q. The answers won't make sense or make you feel any better about this. What will make you feel better, is getting back control of things and returning to a normal life."

"But who's to say he'll ever be caught. I don't know that I can live a normal life with the knowledge that he's still out there somewhere. What happens when your boss feels this is going nowhere and decides to end the protection?" The anxiety was clear in her voice. She thought about it often. Late at night, after everyone was gone and she should be sleeping, the thoughts would enter and take root, keeping her awake.

Santana couldn't answer either of those questions. "I don't honestly know, but I am here now and so are you and Rachel. You are safe here and so is she. For now, that's what matters. The rest can keep." Santana gave her a smile. "Come on, Larissa is watching you slack off and looking like she is going to yell. Get pumping iron so you can get out of here ASAP."

Quinn grimaced as she pulled down as hard as she could on the bar overhead for the first of her three sets of twelve repetitions. "Just like back in Cheerios, right?"

"I can get Sue here in a heartbeat if you need some extra motivation, she owes me a couple of favors."

"Er, thanks but I'll pass on that. I would like to see her though, maybe when this is over."

"At the moment we can't really risk telling anyone, sorry about that. It must be hard on you, not having friends around at a time like this."

Quinn shook her head. "In don't really know if we had proper friends in New York. I understand why people find big cities lonely sometimes. Yes it's exciting, but if Rachel wasn't there for work, I don't know I would have wanted to stay after the novelty wore off." Quinn paused to hammer down another set of twelve pulls on the bar before continuing. "I have work colleagues, who I am close to but how do I explain this to them. Just reappear in their lives and apologize for being gone without explanation. I don't think they will want to know me after that."

"They'll understand," Santana could almost feel the burn from the exertion as Quinn quickly ground out her final set.

Larissa wandered back to the station. "Ready for the recumbent bike?"

Quinn pulled a face that said she could live without it but agreed with a sigh.

The physical therapist swung her ponytail behind her as she bent forwards and freed the strap from Quinn's knees while the blonde took care of the one round her ribs. "You alright now?" She eyed Quinn after seeing her visibly upset.

"No, but I'll live. Let's get this over." She dropped the straps into Larissa's hands and motioned with her head for Santana to vacate the chair.

Standing, the slender detective watched as Larissa encouraged her client to transfer without any help. "Ready for this?"

Quinn nodded and took a deep breath before pulling the chair closer. She reached with the near hand to apply the brake and then supported her bodyweight on the same hand whilst reaching over to fasten the other side. It was further and the missing trunk muscles meant her torso bowed as she fumbled to fasten it. Once it was on, the hardest move of all was trying to sit back upright. Quinn pushed down on the seat of the wheelchair and tried to pull her back towards the bench behind her, but it was curved the wrong way and so she had to edge backwards slowly with her hands gradually righting herself.

Santana could see the way Quinn's body refused to work the way she wanted it and she was reminded again, that this wasn't just her legs that were affected but most of her body as well.

Larissa reached in and placed an arm around Quinn's ribs as she saw her triceps wobble in protest at how much work they were being asked to do. She pulled her into place again and told her to rest a moment before continuing. Quinn nodded and straightened her clothing out.

"I just realized," Santana was pointing at her friend. "The chest thingy is gone."

"The TLSO," Larissa nodded. "She's just going to wear it for sitting now, not while working out. We need to wean her off it and improve her core strength."

"I didn't know I still had any," Quinn mumbled and then catching her friend's eye, "sorry, forgot myself there for a moment." She readied herself and then counted aloud. "One, two, three," she heaved herself from the bench across the small gap to her chair, landing slightly askew and on her left hand which caused a momentary panic and correction to pull it out and regain her balance properly. It took a further minute or so to tug her legs into place and adjust her seat until she was comfortable before rolling across to an odd looking contraption. It looked a little like an exercise bike at the gym, but it had weird pedals for the feet with attachments. Larissa began strapping Quinn's left foot to the pedal, the attachment now became obvious, it was to keep the foot in the right place. Quinn waited patiently for Larissa to finish up and placed her hands on another set of pedals. Turning the handles, Quinn forced the machine to move her feet around.

"What's with this gizmo?" the detective asked.

"Just makes my legs move, so I get a workout for my legs at the same time as my arms."

Larissa smiled up at Santana. "It's a good way to keep some muscle tone in the legs at the same time as building arms and shoulder muscles."

"Oh, okay." She looked at her watch. "How long are you in this for?"

"About fifteen minutes today. I keep doing a little more each day."

"Okay, I'll go collect Rachel and bring her back here. Keep up the good work," Santana patted her on the shoulder.

-THE VIPs-

"You all talked out?"

Rachel glanced up at her friend. "Sort of," she grinned a little. "We talked about understanding how our loved ones feel when they are in a wheelchair. The therapist recommended we spend a day in wheelchair to find out."

Santana looked at Rachel and they both shared a knowing grin.

"So, are you going to do it? I don't remember it going too smoothly for you last time."

"Why not, it wasn't so meaningful last time."

"Shit," Santana put an arm on Rachel's. "Artie."

Rachel nodded. "I know he would want to help, but I just can't bring myself to tell anyone, not even people we trust. If anything happens to someone else I care about…." The sentence went unfinished.

"When this is over, he'll be here in a flash. Just wait and see." Santana found herself reassuring the couple constantly. It was a far cry from her previous mannerisms. She thought about how she used to speak to everyone, but especially Rachel. "While I have you here on your own, I just wanted to apologize."

"Apologize? What for?"

"School and shit, you know."

Rachel grasped Santana's arm and looked her in the eye. "There is nothing to apologize for and even if there was, don't you think you being here now sidelines everything else that went before?"

Santana stared at her boots briefly and ran a hand behind her neck, then rather uncharacteristically, she pulled Rachel into a hug and squeezed her really tight. "We're going to get the both of you through this."

-The VIPs-

Judy went first, leaving the men outside for a while. She knocked, though why was a mystery. The ice-cold stone that sat in her stomach lurched. She didn't think she would ever have to do this again. They had to play it cool at home and carry on their normal routine, Santana had been very clear about that. Despite the worry and concern they had felt for a month, neither set of parents had been allowed near their daughters initially. They could do nothing out of the ordinary to alert the man who caused all this just in case he was watching them. The carefully orchestrated plan had been put together by the police and though she seemed to remember he was not a pleasant character during his time at McKinley, David Karofsky would be on her Christmas card list for the remainder of her days.

"Mom?" Quinn gulped as she looked up to see the door open and her mother step through. They hadn't even been allowed to talk on the phone.

"Quinnie," the older woman ran to her daughter who was sat beside the bed.

They embraced and Judy tried not to get overly emotional because in general her daughter didn't like it, but she failed the moment her fingers felt the plastic which encased Quinn's chest. There was no other word to describe what both women did for the next fifteen minutes. They sobbed. Judy bent over for a while and cried, then she sat on the bed and cried and finally she stood and cried for a moment or two more.

When neither of them had any tears left, Judy went to fetch her husband and the Berry's. The men were upset but managed to hold onto their emotions a little better; they still had some tears and sniffing, but not the outpouring that had just preceded them.

Quinn was upset for a while but also eager to show them she was going to be okay, so when Rachel arrived back, she got into bed on her own without needing the board even though her arms were shot from therapy earlier that day.

Santana did some more reassuring with both sets of parents and explained the security detail at the rehab center. It was finally nice to have everyone back together in one room.

Quinn wanted to spend some time with her mom, just the two of them, so Rachel took Richard and her dads for lunch. Santana by default went along as well. When they finally left, Judy stood and went to the window.

"I'm so very sorry, baby. I ….," for a moment she was lost for words. "No one deserves this to happen once, let alone twice."

"Mom, please come sit down. I'll be okay."

"How can you say that? What will happen after you leave here? It's not safe in New York and Lima's police is tiny in comparison. What if he comes back?"

"Mom, please? Santana will be around…"

"I know she means well, but she's just …. well tiny, really."

"That maybe, but she packs a punch. Trust me, I've felt it a couple of times."

Judy looked at her daughter who was grinning.

"Promise me, you will call if you need us. We will go anywhere to keep you safe."

Quinn nodded. "I know mom, but right now, this is the best place for me. Just you wait and see, I'm working hard and I'll be out of here soon."

Judy returned to Quinn's bedside and cupped her daughter's cheek in her hand. "I know you will, sweetheart."

-The VIPs-

While Quinn rested, Judy caught up with the others for lunch then excused herself to go to the bathroom and Rachel followed her. Santana checked it then waited for the women to sort themselves out and fix their make-up.

Rachel saw Judy's reflection over her shoulder.

"When she's ready to leave, promise me you won't abandon her Rachel."

A look of intense pain passed across the shorter woman's face. "I would never abandon her, not for anything."

Judy nodded. "I think you believe that now, but she's worried you will. She's worried that you'll stop seeing her as a beautiful woman because she's disabled now. She thinks you'll tire of her situation and seek out someone else instead."

Rachel looked as though someone kicked her puppy. "I … don't understand where this is coming from…. has Quinn …..has she told you this?"

"No, but I can see it in her eyes. She keeps looking at you to check that you still love her and she wants to see something other than sympathy. She wants to see her wife looking at her and treating her as though she isn't broken."

Rachel put her face into her hands and started crying. She hadn't thought about that.

She felt the older woman place her hands on her shoulders and rub gently. "It's your anniversary this weekend, do something nice and normal. The both of you need to forget about the rest of what is happening around you for a little while and just enjoy each other's company like you used to."

The young detective watched on but kept quiet. Neither of her friends had changed significantly in the intervening years, but she didn't know about their day-to-day existence and had no right to start expressing her opinion about their relationship; it seemed strong, but she couldn't know as much about it as Judy Fabray and she had seen Rachel look guilt-ridden and sympathetic most days since she was given the task of protecting her.

Judy left Rachel a moment longer to gather herself and walked out, placing a reassuring hand on Santana's shoulder before exiting the room.

Rachel turned to look at her. "I just don't know what to do or how to act for the best."

"Just show her that you are still in love with her I guess. I don't really have any experience here to pass on." The Latina shrugged. "Q loves you, you love her. It's pretty simple really. I guess she just needs reassurance about it."

"Will you help me with something?"

"Whatever you need."

"One of our favorite things is to take a picnic in Central Park, but that's not going to happen so I need to bring the picnic here."

Santana looked amused. "I guess you can start with a grocery list and we can go from there."

Rachel gave a sigh of relief. She could do this.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Thanks again for the feedback. Here's the next installment.**

**The usual disclaimer applies**

* * *

**-The VIPs-**

**Content warning – some occasional bad language in this part**

**Chapter 8**

Karofsky called Santana just as visiting hours were over.

"Hey Karofsky, what can I do for you?"

Everyone overheard and had their fingers crossed that there was a development, but Santana was smiling as he spoke on the other end of the line so they sighed collectively.

"Sure, we'll call and pick it up on the way back. Any developments?" Santana hadn't expected anything, but there was some news. "Okay, thanks."

"Good news," she turned to the audience in the now crowded room. "First off, you have mail waiting at headquarters in Lima. The FBI dropped it off this morning, they are intercepting everything to your apartment and from Quinn's school and Rachel's agent. We'll swing by and collect it on our way back." Santana had told Rachel they could pick up groceries for her anniversary plans but gave the Berry's the list instead. "Can you collect these groceries for us instead?"

Hiram took the list glanced down and nodded. "When do you need them?"

Rachel answered. "Tomorrow afternoon would be good, dad. Thank you."

He rubbed the back of her shoulders and smiled gently.

"What else did Karofsky tell you?" Quinn's eyes were fixed to her friend.

"Don't get your hopes up, but they had a complaint about someone hanging around your apartment in New York. It could be nothing, but one of your neighbors took a picture of the guy on their phone and went to the police because they know you are out of town right now. She thinks you are in LA by the way. He wants us to take a look."

"Do you think it might be him?" Rachel had worry written all over her face.

The Latina shrugged. "It could just be a reporter snooping because you haven't been seen around."

Rachel nodded. "I guess that's more likely."

Quinn grabbed the remote for the bed and raised it so she could reach over to Rachel. "Everything will be okay," she reached forwards and placed a hand on Rachel's arm, but miscalculated her control and slumped forwards, saving herself by pressing her hands into the mattress.

Instantly everyone moved to make sure she was okay. Judy placed a hand under her arm to support her body weight as the younger blonde woman pushed down hard into the bed to move herself back into a seated position. Rachel had the opposite side and pushed her shoulder backwards gently, assisting Quinn in her somewhat jerky movements.

"Panic over, guys. Sorry about that. I think I may have forgotten what a different the tortoise-shell made." Quinn glanced up at the worried faces around her. She chuckled a little. "Come on, relax. You are all going to have to get used to stuff like this happening until I get better at balancing."

"Just be careful, honey, please?" Judy relaxed the breath she had been holding and tried to keep the pain in her heart from showing in her still beautiful features.

Quinn nodded and sighed. "Okay, I promise no heroics, but only if the rest of you promise to be less uptight. You look like somebody died."

"Quinn, please. Don't say things like that." Rachel gave her a look that said she had gone too far with the jokes.

They were interrupted by Larissa before conversation could continue. Rachel made introductions and then Quinn shooed them out so she could get on with her afternoon OT session.

"San, you got a minute?"

The detective glanced over at Rachel, but she was surrounded by her family so she nodded and stayed behind.

"S'up?"

"I need you to get something for me, or get mom to get it for me, if that's alright."

"I told you, whatever you need, Q"

The blonde relaxed slightly and wrote her instructions on a note pad before ripping it off and handing it over.

Santana looked at the note, which read:

**_Anniversary card – no soppy messages, but something tasteful, no bears or similar cute animals, something to make Rach smile again! Thanks. You are the best!_**

The detective reached over and gave her a little punch on the arm. "As if I would buy anything cute and soppy, even for someone else," she grinned and then hugged her friend.

"Stay safe for me, okay?"

"You got it, Q." She flipped her jacket around and threaded her arms through the sleeves. "See you tomorrow."

-The VIPs-

"Do you think they have something concrete?"

"Jeez, Rach; I said not to get your hopes up."

"I know, but I can't help it. It's all I think about for the most part."

Santana sighed. She was feeling more and more like a babysitter. So far nothing was happening and she was in truth as bored as she was worried. As soon as the sadistic creep was put away, she was putting in a transfer request out of the VIP unit. She wanted her friends safe of course, but she couldn't take this waiting around all day forever. She enjoyed spending time with Quinn and Rachel, but she would rather just be doing that as their friend.

San reached over and gave Rachel's shoulder a squeeze. "I'm not expecting anything that clear or I think the Feds would already have identified him."

Rachel nodded and pulled her phone out. She had another fourteen text messages, mostly from her agent asking a lot of questions she couldn't answer. She tapped away on the phone with her responses one by one.

**_No news yet, on our way to police station to look at photo from a neighbor in NY _**

**_I don't know when we will be back_**

**_LA will have to wait, can't leave Quinn yet_**

**_Think of a reasonable sounding excuse, you're my agent, not theirs_**

**_I'm not being rude, I'm under extreme duress!_**

**_Quinn is doing really well, thanks_**

**_She's out of bed and getting used to the wheelchair now_**

**_Maybe a month or so_**

"I don't really know why I pay that woman anything. She's being more needy that my wife who is in hospital!"

Santana tried not to laugh, but a little noise escaped her anyway.

Rachel glanced over and saw the smirk on the detective's face. "Are you laughing at me?"

"God, no!" Santana held up a hand in her defense. "I just remember she looked scared shitless last week, that's what made me laugh."

Rachel grinned then. "Would you believe she supposedly scares half of Broadway to death?"

Santana laughed again. "She looked like she was going to pee her pants when I saw her, so no. I thought New Yorkers were supposed to be hard."

"I think she's from Florida," Rachel deadpanned.

The both of them made eye contact and then burst into laughter at the same time.

"Shit!" Santana swerved the car back into the lane after she had veered slightly. "Don't make me laugh when I'm driving. Quinn will bust my ass if I crash with you on board."

-The VIPs-

"What are your thoughts? Do you recognize the guy? Anything familiar about him?"

Rachel squinted at the picture. It had been blown up and was a little grainy, though it was in color at least. The main problem was that her neighbor had caught the guy from behind rather than facing head on, so they had a partial profile and the back of his head, but it wasn't good quality, taken from a bit of a distance as he walked towards the elevator door. Still there was something familiar about him. She shivered. It was the way he walked. The way he held himself. Very upright. It was something she hadn't thought about until now.

"I….. I don't recognize him per se, in that I don't know his name, but I think it's him."

"What?" Santana snatched the photo. "This is him? How can you tell? It's a partial side view at best."

Rachel sank into a chair, her legs suddenly devoid of strength. Her mind was on the attack a month ago. Was this her brain playing tricks on her because she was desperate to find the guy?

Rachel suddenly burst into tears. She was right back in the moment, a month before.

_They had been worried at first, the tone of the letters had changed from admiration to anger. They had been arriving for some time and then she and Quinn got married and the story appeared in the papers and on the news. No one took them seriously to begin with but they became so unpleasant and threats were issued. Relief had coursed through Rachel; they were being handled now the police had finally decided to take them seriously. Quinn had been largely unconcerned about it. She just figured it was someone lonely with nothing better to do and had reassured Rachel that it would all work out fine. _

_She couldn't remember when Quinn had gotten so calm; she used to have such a scary temper back when they were in school. Rachel thought back, it was definitely before they left that she changed, but it was after that whole Shelby mess. Thank God that relationship had been patched up somewhat over the years. It was Yale, that was what changed Quinn. Getting that letter of acceptance in the mail; she finally realized she was getting out of Lima and all that repressed anger just dissipated. It was probably surviving the car crash too. Perspective. It changes you._

_And then Rachel just decided, spur of the moment, which was so unlike her. She hailed the cab outside the theater on Broadway and gave him the address of the somewhat more modest theater Quinn was performing in. 'The Taming of the Shrew', off Broadway of course, just off Broadway. Quinn didn't have the time to really turn professional. She preferred teaching; acting was just a sideline; a means of extending her skill, but still just a hobby. _

_She went in the front entrance and there were a few nods of recognition, but no one interrupted the play. She had disappeared into the wings as soon as it was over, Quinn seeing her and pulling her through to the dressing room. Quinn's fellow cast members had been so excited to meet her at last and were bubbling over with kind words about her latest show. She'd gotten some complimentary tickets for them to go one evening and Quinn had been really grateful._

_Quinn changed rapidly out of costume and suggested they go out the back way to avoid the crowd out front. It might not be Broadway, but it was a sophisticated and intelligent audience; she had been recognized._

_They left laughing, arm-in-arm, past the security guard at the stage door and waving him goodnight. Quinn wanted to grab a taxi, but Rachel fancied walking home. She didn't get to do that much anymore and it wasn't so far. _

_That was as far as the conversation got._

_Everything had been so fast. _

_Rachel, just felt a surge of adrenalin before she saw him approach. Her heart was beating so fast that she could taste the iron in her mouth, vast amounts of oxygen being circulated at such high pressure. Quinn's arm that had been looped casually through her own was now forcing her towards the building. Rachel didn't understand what was happening and then she saw him. Tall, wearing a ski mask and bearing down on them. _

_She didn't even see the knife until it was too late._

_Her hand instinctively went to her arm and the two inch scar that was still healing beneath the film adhered to it. Hopefully the film would reduce the impact of the neat row of sutures that had been removed ten days ago. If only she could remove the memory of that night so easily._

_Quinn had thrown herself in front and hit his shoulder quite hard. Rachel had screamed so loudly that people out on the street heard it and moments later the shouting had started. For a second, Rachel thought he was going to just leave them unharmed and then Quinn had fallen against her. Instinct kicked in and she grabbed her wife under the arms without really grasping what just happened and then the sting of the blade across her arm made her scream once more and they had fallen to the ground. He turned to look and then back to face them, a moment of indecision, did he stay and cause more damage and risk being jumped by the rapidly approaching bystanders or did he run away?_

_He ran for it, dropping his shoulder as the security guard attempted to stop him, barreling past and leaving the aging guard tumbling to the asphalt behind him._

_Rachel had been pinned to the ground by her wife. Quinn's body was heavy and lifeless, but she could hear the raspy breaths in her ear, almost taste the blood, the smell of it was so strong. She felt dizzy, shock beginning to creep over her, but forced her eyes open._

_"__Quinn, please wake up," she had shaken her from below, panic evident in each word she virtually yelled. "Quinn, please! Please wake up. God please wake up. Quinn!"_

_Hands suddenly were everywhere and confusion and blood and noise; she fainted at some point._

_"__Miss, wake up for me," a voice was soothing and warm. An Irish accent. "Miss, open your eyes please. Come on lovely, you can do it. There we go." _

_Rachel cracked an eye and a blurry image appeared, sharpening gradually to a pleasantly round face with kind eyes and a smile. _

_"__What's your name, darlin'?"_

_She hadn't been able to reply, the bloody taste in her mouth made her want to heave. "Rachel," she croaked. "Rachel Berry."_

_"__Okay, hon. You can relax now, you're in the hospital. You've lost a bit of blood, but we have you stable and on some fluids."_

_Rachel's eyes flew wide open and she looked at her arm. It was on fire. Her mind cleared._

_"__Quinn," she croaked loudly. "Where's my wife?"_

_The nurse stayed very calm and stroked the hair from her eyes. _

_"__She's in with the doctors now. I'll just go check and see how she is for you alright? When I come back, we'll get that arm stitched up and then you can go see her."_

_"__Is she…?"_

_"__She's still with us, dear. Let me just go find out some news. I'll be a couple of minutes, that's all."_

_She was as good as her word._

_"__Rachel, you can see her in a little while. We've given her pain medication so she's a little groggy, but they have the bleeding under control. Can we call anyone for you? Family or friends?"_

_Rachel hadn't cared about calling anyone. "Bleeding? What happened?" Her voice was croaky and her lips dry._

_"__Don't you remember?"_

_"__It was dark and everything happened so fast and he came out of nowhere…."_

_"__The police are waiting to get a statement from you as soon as the doctor takes care of that wound. Rachel, you and your wife, you were attacked. We think it was a knife he used from your injuries."_

_"__Quinn?"_

_"__She has a nasty stab wound to her spine dear. The doctor will explain everything when she's more aware; she's semi- conscious now and quite poorly."_

_It was a bit of a wait for a young doctor to arrive to suture the wound. She was very nice and talked about the best way to minimize the scarring. Rachel nodded but had only Quinn on her mind. Apart from that she was numb._

_It had wasn't the end of their nightmare; it was just the beginning._

-The VIPs-

Santana was staring intently at the photo and then at Rachel.

"Talk to me Berry."

"I'm not a hundred percent certain, but I think it's him. It's not the face I recognize, it's the way he walks and carries himself; his stance. It's the same. It's the only thing I remember about him. We couldn't see his face."

Santana dropped down onto her haunches and placed a hand on the shorter girl's shoulder. "Are you okay?"

Rachel inhaled deeply. "Not really, Santana, but thank you." A watery smile appeared. "I can't explain it fully, but I think that's him."

Santana looked at the photo again. "Find out who this fuck is and get him picked up!" Santana fisted the picture into the FBI agent's hand.

He nodded. "It's enough to warrant questioning him at least."

Tension was etched in Santana's face. She looked ten times meaner than Karofsky had ever seen before. God help this guy if she found him before the Feds.

"Santana," he tried to calm her down. "It's not enough to arrest him, just bear that in mind. We don't have a full ID."

"I don't give a rat's ass. I want him off the streets until you do have enough." She turned her attention to Rachel. "Come on, let's go see your dads."

Rachel was going to argue but looked at the determination on the detective's face and just nodded.

"Oh, Rachel? We have the mail for you as well." Dave left briefly before returning with a mail bag. "There's a lot for Quinn from her school address."

"Thank you, David." Rachel's mask was back on and she straightened, gave him a smile and led the way out of his office.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Not too many reviews for this story but as some of you seem to like it, I will continue. If you are enjoying it and haven't let me know yet, I would appreciate it. I have 2 more completed chapters and then it's a little open to suggestion as to where it goes from there. I have a few undeveloped ideas, but if you have suggestions, please send them and I will see if I can make them fit in.

Thanks for the continued support.

The usual disclaimer applies

* * *

-The VIPs-

Chapter 9

Santana and Rachel both had their arms full as they walked up the hallway towards Quinn's room.

The blonde was lying on the bed, her stomach was making gurgling noises and she felt like it was probably hunger because Rachel said she was coming by and bringing real food, but she was also concerned that perhaps her digestive system was about to embarrass her again.

She didn't want her mind to go there but it did.

In truth the whole situation sucked, but she knew she could handle the wheelchair and not being able to walk. The stares that she would get once she was back out in the real world would annoy her but she had preparation for that after the car accident so that too wasn't a deal breaker. The lack of sensation was something that she would have to get used to again, but it wasn't the end of the world, at least she still had her boobs, right?

Her main worry was the malfunctioning waste disposal system and if it embarrassed her tonight of all nights, she didn't know what that would do to her already fragile ego. Rachel's continued battle with guilt was also in danger of blowing up in their faces at any time and if anything was going to make it worse….. She really shouldn't go there.

Quinn closed her eyes and forced the uncomfortable feelings aside and thought about what Rachel might be bringing. It was their anniversary, two years of bliss. Well actually they had officially been an item since Quinn had been a college junior, so it was more like five years and the year before that when they started to get really close as friends first had been awesome as well, so for Quinn that was six years of bliss. Strike the last month off though; that had been a journey to hell and whether or not they would make it back from there was still up for debate.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a tap on the door.

"Come in," she replied. Instead of using the controls on the bed, Quinn forced her elbows under her to raise herself up a little.

Rachel gave her a shy smile. "I thought you might be taking a nap." She walked in followed by Santana, both laden down by bags and a cooler.

Quinn wrinkled her nose up and shook her head. "Just relaxing."

"I hope you are hungry Q, Rach has enough to feed half the staff and patients in here." Santana rolled her eyes and lifted her arms a little, pointing out the obvious, before depositing the bags on the floor. "So she's staying here while you and I go for a little wander so she can sort the place out. Not very romantic for an anniversary dinner." Santana saw a frown appear on Quinn's face at the suggestion. "Relax, I have a security man right outside the door. No one but you is getting inside this room tonight. Come on."

The detective didn't even wait for Quinn to respond, she just waved the guard over and gave him instructions.

Rachel was removing the protective vest Santana had issued her with and hung it on the back of a chair. She was glad to be free of it, but also relieved that her friend had thought of everything to ensure her safety.

"Go, Quinn. I need some time to get everything ready. Just twenty minutes maybe."

Quinn's heart melted a little at the look on her wife's face. "Okay, I was just worried for a moment." She let her body fall back to the mattress and then used her full effort to generate enough momentum to sit up without using the bed controls.

Santana's eyebrows rose and she got a grin back from the blonde. "I practice," she shrugged without moving her hands off the bed. "But now I'm a little wobbly," she grinned. Slowly Quinn shifted her weight onto one hand so she could move the other and start to get herself moving towards the waiting wheelchair. Her balance was still very poor, but she had figured out a system at least for moving around. It wasn't perfect and she found herself falling sideways on a frequent basis, but the experimenting was making her stronger by the day.

Once she was in position, she reached and dropped the first leg over the side of the bed, then there was a moment where she almost fell back but moved her hands fast enough to catch herself. The other leg followed moments later and she was sitting slightly crooked on the edge. Shifting her weight round a little more brought it home to them all, just how little control remained in her body. Her back arched as she moved her shoulders into place so she could literally use them to lever her body into the chair. It seemed like a monumental effort.

Quinn sighed as she adjusted her body so it was sat properly. When she transferred, her clothes would move around and end up creased beneath her so she would have to take the time to straighten everything up before she was ready to move. She was grateful for Santana's new found patience. Her friend was stood holding the door for her with no indication that there was a need to rush. It seemed they had all mellowed somewhat since high school.

Quinn rolled past her friend and gave Rachel a little wave as they headed along the hallway.

"So, ping pong for twenty minutes?" Santana had seen Quinn play a little with Larissa the other day. It was good balance training apparently, all the twisting side to side.

"Sure. It's probably a little busy in the rec room though now."

"That's okay, I'll just wave my badge around and they'll all run away, or roll away I guess."

"Ah the Santana Lopez of old rears her head," Quinn grinned.

Santana shrugged. "I taps into Snix every once in a while, just to check she's still in there."

"Is that why you got posted to the VIP squad or whatever they call themselves?"

San shrugged. "You know me too well."

"What happened, if you can talk about it?"

"I was working on the drug unit in Columbus and went after a dealer with a warrant to arrest him and found him dealing to school kids on the street corner."

"Did you get a little Lima Heights with him?"

"More than a little. I broke his nose and he filed a complaint."

Quinn chuckled. "I really shouldn't laugh, but kind of sounds like he deserved it."

"Even criminals have rights and I overstepped as usual. The complaint was dismissed because none of the kids who witnessed it would back him, I guess their parents didn't want to get involved, but I was due a promotion and they decided I could use some mandated help for my anger issues." She smiled wryly. "They were right and he could have walked if I had gone much further. I wouldn't want that no matter how satisfying it was in the short term."

They arrived at the recreation room where there were a few patients around, but still a couple of empty tables free.

"So how does this work? Like to make it fair?"

Quinn smirked. "I play with one hand tied behind my back?"

"Funny, Q. But seriously?"

"If you serve and it bounces out of the sides, I get a let, otherwise it's the same as normal." She shrugged. "As far as I know anyway. I am kind of limited in experience you know. It's not like I'll be at the Paralympics or anything."

Santana tried not to laugh, but some of the other patients heard and a guy gave Quinn some applause for her comment. "Sorry," San held her hand up. "Not renowned for my diplomacy."

"Shut up and play, San!"

-The VIPs-

Half an hour later, the friends wandered back along the same hallway again. Quinn opened the door, relieved to see the security guard parked outside the room. He tipped his hat to her as she went in. Santana took a quick glance into see that Rachel was okay and was stunned at the changes in the room. The lights were off, shades down over the window and the room glowed with pale orange light from masses of candles spread around the room. In the middle of the floor, a picnic was laid out on a blanket and a single folding camp chair was sat on the edge with an empty space beside it for Quinn to park her chair.

The food was spread out before them and music was playing softly in the background. It looked pretty romantic. Berry did a good job. She nodded to Rachel with a grin and then closed the door, parking herself outside in a chair so the couple could enjoy some rare alone time.

"Rachel," Quinn breathed. "This looks amazing."

"Do you think so? I tried my best. It's not exactly number one on the list of all-time favorite destinations for a romantic wedding anniversary." She glanced around the room trying not to notice the hospital bed and medical paraphernalia dotted here and there.

"It's perfect," Quinn smiled softly.

"Do you really mean that?"

The blonde head nodded and rolled further across the room. Rachel stood from where she was sat in the camp chair and approached.

"I wouldn't care where we were so long as we're together," Quinn reached a hand out and Rachel took hold, careful not to pull in case she tipped Quinn forwards too much. "Come sit down," Quinn indicated her lap.

Rachel was still a little weary of putting all her weight on Quinn's still healing body, but the tug on her hand was firm and decisive, so she edged over the neatly arranged knees and eased herself against her wife. "Is this okay? I'm not too heavy?"

Quinn grinned and shook her head. "Rachel you weigh about a hundred pounds wet through.

Rachel pouted. "Actually I weight exactly one hundred and twelve pounds."

"Oh and that extra twelve pounds is going to kill me," the corner of Quinn's mouth turned up, gently teasing Rachel.

The brunette lifted her chin with some fake defiance. "You are making fun of me, Quinn Fabray."

"Well maybe I get a little leeway considering what I'm doing here."

Rachel's face crumpled immediately.

"Rachel, no, stop looking like that, please. I'm sorry. I won't mention that again tonight. Please baby, don't get upset with me."

Rachel bit her lip. "But this is all my fault," she whispered. "How can you not hate me even a little bit?"

"I could never hate you, Rachel. No matter what."

"You used to hate me in high school because I stole your boyfriend," she couldn't bring herself to say his name. It was already too difficult that day.

"Can I let you into a secret?"

Rachel nodded her head.

"I was pissed at you wanting my boyfriend, but I think I still fancied you."

"What?" Rachel sat more upright. "You are lying," she accused.

"I swear I'm not. Rach, you were sexy as hell because you had no idea how hot you were. All hidden under animal sweaters and knee highs was this body," Quinn waved her hand over the front of Rachel's chest. "Everyone was in heat for you, but you were so annoying sometimes that no one admitted it, except Puck but the boy was like a dog in heat so that doesn't count."

"Now I know you're lying. Who thought I was hot?"

"Well Puck obviously and Finn," she raised her eyes upwards at the mention of his name, it was a habit they all had. "Artie and Mike, okay not so much Kurt or Blaine, but Satan always had a thing for you and Brittany thought you were so cute, and well obviously me, so I make that about seven of us."

Rachel's chin was almost on the floor. "You are playing me."

"I swear down, I am being honest. They might not have admitted to it at the time, but I bet you were the cause of more than one wet dream." Quinn avoided Rachel's piercing gaze and inspected her nails, which really did need sorting out.

Rachel fake punched her in the arm. "You are messing with me, don't think I can be fooled that easy."

"Whatever," Quinn dismissed the argument because Rachel had been distracted from the previous topic and was now smiling again.

"So what do we have? It looks amazing."

Rachel looked at Quinn for a second and then remembered what Judy had told her. There was definitely an air of confidence about her wife, but she suspected that underneath there was uncertainty about the future and Rachel's feeling for her in the long run. They had little or no privacy for over a month and that was hard to take.

Rachel lifted her hand to Quinn's cheek and turned her head to face her and then just wouldn't let go of her eyes, holding them steady without blinking or moving them away. It was the sort of look that communicated everything without saying a word, letting Quinn know that she was still in love with her and that wouldn't change.

Rachel waited until Quinn's breath caught and then dropped her lips onto her wife's and the pair lost themselves in emotions they hadn't been able to tap into for several weeks.

Some time later, they parted and breathing relaxed to more normal levels. Rachel finally presented the picnic and started to fill a plate for Quinn.

"Wait," she stopped the brunette. "I want to sit on the blanket, like we did on our first date in Central Park and a hundred other times since then."

Rachel looked momentarily nervous as she stood up again. "How, I mean, I can't see ….. how do we do this?" She bit her lip.

Quinn thought about it for a moment. "Well I could throw myself down there obviously but Angela will kill me if she finds bruises in the morning." She studied it further for a moment. "I'll be terrible at sitting on the floor without anything to prop me up so I'm just going to have to lean on you. Get used to this sort of thing, Berry, we are going to have to use our imagination from now on."

Rachel scratched her head in confusion, then looked like someone switched on the light bulb. They looked at each other and both came up with the same solution.

"Santana!"

Sat out in the hallway, San was playing the latest version of Angry Birds on her phone, trying not to fall asleep. The vigilance was draining. She was due a day off tomorrow but Rachel wasn't going to be happy with anyone else around, so she would have to work through for now. Lost in thought, she was startled when the door behind her opened and Rachel peered out.

"Santana do you think you can give us a little help with something please?"

"So long as it doesn't involve anything kinky, because, you know I'm really not into that, despite what everyone might think."

"I think I'm a gonna needs to take of my jacket for this," Santana removed the suit jacket and flipped it on the bed, rolling her shirt sleeves up while she thought about it. "I don't know that I'm cut out for manual labor." She grinned.

Quinn had a bemused look on her face.

"We'll let you stay for some sparkling cider if you behave," the blonde was banned from alcohol at present on doctors orders.

Santana snorted. "I'm a cop, I don't drink sparkling cider. If its not a cold beer, I'll pass."

"Jeez, San you are so gay."

"Hah, says little miss in denial over there. Takes one to know one."

"Yeah, but Rach doesn't believe me when I told her you and I both had the hots for her in high school."

Santana choked at that. "Q! I thought we agreed we weren't going to have that conversation again. I mean, I was very happy to have Rachel be prom queen because I for one did not want to dance with Finn, but did you have to tell her now that we are actually adults, the real reason we voted her in?"

"What?" Rachel suddenly realized what they were talking about.

"I told you," Quinn insisted, her arms folded, as she waited for Santana to help her.

"Why am I being roped in for this? Rachel in fairness, is not that much smaller than me."

Quinn looked at Santana and then at Rachel, who immediately avoided eye contact.

"You didn't tell her?" Quinn stared at her wife.

Rachel shook her head.

"Show her for goodness sake," Quinn rolled her eyes. "It's not that bad."

Rachel sighed and slowly removed the cardigan she was wearing. It was dark so Santana couldn't really see to clearly at first. She got closer and pulled Rachel's arm around to get a closer look. Just about halfway between her elbow and shoulder was the fresh scar, still healing under the silicone gel layer.

"Q's right. It's not so bad," the detective could see that it was quite long and deep even though it had obviously been well taken care of. "Still hurts I guess?"

"Not so much, but no heavy lifting until it's properly healed." Rachel stared at it for a moment and then forced a smile on her face and put the cardigan back on.

"I don't weigh that much," Quinn grumbled.

"Shut your yammerin' Q, let's get you on the rug."

Santana considered the best way to try help Quinn down without hurting either of them. She had seen Angela help dump Quinn out of the chair a few times, only it tended to be onto thick mats, not a picnic blanket, so she decided for a controlled descent. "How about I do that thing with you hanging onto me and I stand you up and then lower you. Rachel can move the chair out of the way."

Quinn nodded. "It's called a pivot transfer."

"Whatever, let's go." San remembered overhearing that you had to keep your back straight and so she crouched a little, but by bending her knees and then Quinn sort of hugged her while the detective straightened her knees and lifted her friend clear of the chair. Rachel stepped in and moved it out of the way, so Santana could then pivot around and bend her knees to lower Quinn down slowly.

"That actually worked pretty good," Quinn breathed a sigh of relief as she realized she was actually sitting on the blanket.

"Give me a shout when you need a hand to get back in, unless you are going to drag yourself back in, in which case, Rach, shout when you are ready to leave."

"You aren't going to have something to eat with us?" Rachel offered.

Santana smiled a genuine smile. "Thanks, but this is your night. Enjoy. I'll be outside if you need anything, and I have earphones if it gets noisy!"

"San!" Quinn yelled.

"Okay, okay. I'm going."

-The VIPs-

Quinn relaxed her head. She was actually lying mostly on the blanket with a pillow under her knees and her head and shoulders in Rachel's lap. She was comfortable. The soft golden light was reflecting off Rachel's hair.

Rachel was playing with Quinn's hair in her fingers, toying with a strand, wrapping it in a long curl and then letting it spring loose.

"Thank you for doing this, going to all this effort tonight."

"I just wanted it to be special for you," Rachel leaned back and stretched upright.

"It is, this is the best I have felt since …. You know."

Rachel nodded. "Are you really going to be okay?"

Quinn raised her eyebrows. "Yeah I am. Well I am going to be okay so long as we are okay. You get what I'm saying? Are you going to be okay with this," she waved a hand at her lower body. "This is going to change things for us. It's not something we planned for."

Rachel glanced down at Quinn's lower body. "I'm so sorry about what happened and twice now I feel guilt about this happening to you, but it doesn't change how I feel about you. Judy said I needed to reassure you that I wasn't going to run away. I promised her and now I'm promising you the same thing; as long as you still want me, I'm yours."

"Of course I do, and I told you so many times before, it wasn't your fault when we were in school, that was all on me. I shouldn't have replied to your text. It was really dumb and it wasn't your fault this time either. I don't know if it's who they think it is, but whatever, it's his fault Rachel. All you did was get on a stage and perform. There is no guilt attached to you."

Quinn blinked and wondered why her face was wet, she wasn't crying. Looking up, she saw one of Rachel's tears had landed on her, so she forced her body upright until she was sitting after a fashion. It was a struggle, but she managed to support herself with one hand and wrapped the other arm around Rachel.

"We're going to be okay. They are going to find this guy and then we can go back to our life and start over. It might not be easy but we are still here and still together, that's the only thing that matters."

-The VIPs-

TBC


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: Thanks for the reviews. Angst building from here on in. Hope you like the tension as the build-up to revealing the identity of the stalker.

The usual disclaimer applies.

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Chapter 10

"Not happening," Quinn was shaking her head stubbornly.

"But….," Karofsky was stood arms folded trying to persuade his former, his former what? His former classmate? Adversary? Who knew? She had cheered him on at a lot of football games in their freshman year, but then not so much after the whole baby thing and her joining Glee club. That was on him though.

"I said no!"

"Quinn, please listen to him. It makes sense."

"Rachel," Quinn shook her head. "I can't have you put in that sort of position. It's too risky. Bad enough that this happened to me, I'll be damned if I let this happen to you too, or worse. This guy is a whack-job and he's not going to settle until he kills you. How can you agree to this?"

Santana had to agree. It was the FBIs plan. The agent that had been relaying information backwards and forwards from the New York office was too scared to get any nearer than just inside the door.

Quinn looked at her. "You haven't said your piece, which is unusual. I take it you agree with them. You want to let them appeal for information based on this." Quinn waved the photo at her. "You can hardly tell it's a man never mind get an ID!"

"Ms Fabray," the FBI agent finally dared say something to the bad tempered blonde. "If I may explain. People might have seen him in the neighborhood and gotten a better view, we could get a sketch artist to work with witnesses. If the public know what happened it should provoke a stronger response and the sooner the better before its forgotten."

"No, it's too dangerous. We have anonymity right now and that's how I want it to stay. Once this goes public, we'll have reporters crawling all over this place."

"Is that what you're worried about?" Rachel looked at her. "Are you worried about people knowing what happened to us, to you?"

Quinn sighed. She didn't particularly want any attention, but this was not about her, it was about Rachel. "I don't care about me, I care about you."

Karofsky watched the pair closely. He sort of figured she would go for it. Quinn was feisty. He thought she'd want to nail the guy if they had a chance, but she had changed in the years since he'd last seen her. He watched Rachel drop next to her on the bed and take hold of a hand. Quinn's body fell into her wife's. He hadn't seen her in the wheelchair before at school. It was after his own meltdown. Apparently, just after he had been discharged, she had been brought into Lima General. The irony was massive. He tried not to look at her legs; she was pissed enough with him, but it was sort of hard not to wonder about it. He tried to put himself in her position; he did that a lot now.

"Quinn, I know you think this is a really bad idea, but just listen to my train of thought please?"

She scowled at him, but nodded. "Go ahead."

"If we sit on this and wait, the trail goes cold and you wait for another break in the case. In the meantime, you could be released home and we don't have the staff to protect you guys twenty-four-seven indefinitely. If we don't try something, it could be weeks, months or even years until he raises his head again and I don't want you guys having to spend that long looking over your shoulder all the time."

Quinn looked at him, realizing the sense of what he said. If Rachel was right, though she wasn't convinced because Rachel was desperate, and this was the guy, he could hide out for a while and wait until complacency sets in before attacking again. There was nothing to stop him waiting years before putting in another visit.

"If we do this, there is a condition. The house has to be watched. Too many people know it's my family home and once this goes public, we are going to have to fend off attention here."

Rachel was nodding. "And I want Quinn protected here. She should have a guard with her at all times."

"Don't worry about me, it's you he's after."

"Rachel's right, Q. He might come for you to get to her." Santana still didn't like it. They hadn't exhausted local enquiries and it felt like the Feds were rushing things again.

"I think we are getting way ahead of ourselves here." The FBI agent approached. "We don't actually know this is the guy. Until we can ID and locate him, we have to operate on the basis that we simply want to talk to him."

"Then why go public?" Santana didn't feel like they had enough concrete evidence other than Rachel's hunch.

"Because if we act now and this is the guy, we have a good chance of picking him up in Manhattan before he has a chance to go to ground."

Santana rubbed the back of her neck. "I think you should just post pictures locally in the area where these guys live for forty eight hours and see if there is a response from the public first. We might be able to pick him up without the need to let anyone know the reason."

"That's a possible if you prefer to wait a little longer," Dave looked questioningly at the couple.

"I think Santana's idea is worth a try first," Quinn suggested to her wife.

Rachel sighed and then nodded in agreement. "Let's try it for a couple of days."

-The VIPs-

The police had confirmation sightings that the guy had been in the area, but beyond a vague description of his being tall, mid to late twenties in age, cropped red hair and a goatee beard, there was nothing helpful. No one recognized him and no one had seen him since.

It was another dead end.

-The VIPs-

Quinn emptied the mail bag on the bed. She was sat in the wheelchair, back in the loaner until the one she ordered was ready.

She could tell the difference between the regular mail and the personal stuff. She opened the regular things first, just in case there was anything important. It was mostly routine stuff from her bank and credit card. There was a letter from the school principal wishing her a speedy recovery and some forms to sign. They had hired a substitute teacher for three months until she was in a position to let them know if she could return to work. At present they were holding her job open because of her impeccable record thus far. It was professional but also personal. The principal hoped she would return within a reasonable time frame. Quinn was partly relieved but also worried that the longer the situation prevailed, the less likely she would have a job to go back to.

Placing the utilitarian mail she had already dealt with back in the bag for Rachel to take home, she turned her attention to the personal stuff. There were piles of cards and letters bundled together.

She opened the first bundle and started opening them. It was from her tenth grade class. Each of them had sent a get well card with personal messages for her. They had no idea what was wrong just that she was in the hospital for several weeks. Some assumed she was ill, others that she had had surgery, none knew the real truth yet.

One of her favorite students had written a cute message inside.

**_Dear Miss Fabray,_**

**_Gutted that you're in the hospital. The sub's okay but she's neither FAB by name, OR by nature. We miss you heaps. Please get well soon and come back to us. How will I ever get to be a film star without u? _**

**_Best Wishes for a speedy recovery!_**

**_Lots of love,_**

**_Alisha G._**

Quinn smiled. She would write a letter to the students once she had a grip on her emotions. She carried on opening more and they were filled by similar sentiments. Lots of well-wishers hoping she would return to be their teacher, colleague and fellow thespian.

It was an emotional afternoon.

After a half hour of calm and time for her puffy red eyes to go down, Quinn set about emailing her reply to the principal.

**_Dear Esther,_**

**_Thank you for your letter and kind words. It was lovely to read through all the cards the students sent and it cheered me up, (as well as making me cry because I miss you all!) I was very moved by their sentiments and your generous offer to hold my position open for the time being._**

**_I am sorry you have been kept in the dark a little. Please understand that if I was able to visit in person I would, however, I am no longer in New York. I have been moved to a different hospital out of state for rehabilitation, where I am likely to be for at least another month._**

**_I was injured five weeks ago, the innocent victim of a violent attack. You are probably aware that the circumstances are somewhat unclear as the police were the ones to inform you of my absence. As the person responsible is still at large and as yet unidentified, I have been advised to refrain from revealing the exact location of the hospital or the details of what happened by the police and FBI who are still investigating. I apologize for my absence and for the lack of details. Once I am cleared to do so I can fill you in on whole story. _**

**_For now though, I am safe and recovering well, though my spinal cord was badly damaged in the attack and I am now paralyzed from the chest down. The doctors feel that this situation is unlikely to change given the nature of the injury I received and therefore I am likely to be reliant on a wheelchair from now on. _**

Quinn wiped the tear that had formed in her eye as she wrote down the truth about her condition. She admonished herself for getting all emotional and sniffed loudly before continuing.

**_I do hope to return to work and it is my intention to do so as soon as possible, provided you are willing to hold my position until I am cleared by the doctor. There are a number of issues which make it unlikely for some weeks at least, my having to get used to life in a wheelchair being one. I am coping with most things and will eventually be completely independent again, it just takes time to practice everything._**

**_I am optimistic that my injury and resultant disability will not affect my ability to teach and I desperately want to return to the thing I love the most. God willing, that will be in the not too distant future. I leave it to you to decide what to tell the students; for obvious reasons, it would not be appropriate for me to write to them individually, but I have no issue with them knowing at least the seriousness of my injury._**

**_Thank you for your support. Please give my love to everyone and I hope to see you all soon._**

**_Kind regards,_**

**_Quinn _**

She read over it once more. It seemed a little impersonal, but she needed to maintain some professional distance, so she hit send.

-The VIPs-

"Tonight on Entertainment Live the shocking news that Broadway star Rachel Berry has been the victim of a stalker. The actress, who famously starred in her first major role at just nineteen, was attacked by an unknown assailant almost six weeks ago. Although Ms Berry wasn't badly hurt in the attack, police have since confirmed that she had in fact received a number of threatening letters in the months prior and they believe that the person responsible is still a threat. Ms Berry's whereabouts is currently unknown and she has remained silent about the issue but has allowed the police to appeal for information from anyone who might have witnessed the attack or who saw a man fitting the following description running away from the rear of the Westside Theater on Thursday, May twenty-first, at around nine P.M. He is described as a white male, aged twenty-five to thirty, over six feet tall and athletic build. The police have also issued this photograph of a man they would like to speak to in relation to the incident. If you recognize this man, please call Crimestoppers. There is a sizable reward offered for information leading to an arrest."

"Nine news brings you the latest information in the bizarre case of Rachel Berry, star of Broadway and winner of numerous awards for her work on stage and in the music industry and a mystery stalker. Ms Berry, who is openly gay, was attacked six weeks ago while leaving an off-Broadway theater with her wife, also an actress and who was appearing on stage that evening. Although Ms Berry received only minor injuries, her wife was in fact seriously hurt and police have so far been unable to identify the masked man who perpetrated the crime. Following an appeal several days ago, the police have said they have been inundated with responses and are following up all leads in the case. A significant reward has been offered for information leading to a successful prosecution of this madman for attempted murder. Who says being a celebrity is easy?"

-The VIPs-

"We have had some people put forward suggestions for the photo and when we checked the backgrounds, there are is one with a connection to you."

"There is?"

"It seems a credible source and the guy was based in New Jersey at the time of the attack, so it's not that much of a journey into Manhattan."

Rachel looked confused. "Who?"

"A Richard Nelson, hails from Lima. Went to your high school and was in your graduating class." The FBI agent looked at Rachel and Quinn.

"Richard Nelson, as in 'Rick the Stick'?" Quinn looked incredulous but Rachel had gone white as a sheet. "Rach, you with me here?"

"Sorry, I was just thinking. I need your laptop," she looked around for it.

"Okay, I'm not that convinced, but …"

"I need to look at my Twitter feed. I think he's one of my followers."

The FBI agent looked up suddenly interested in this conversation. "Twitter?"

"Yes I post regularly or I did until all this started. I have quite a lot of followers. I didn't think about that."

"How many followers exactly?"

"About three million," Rachel bit her lip self-consciously. "I only remembered because we used to go to the same school. But surely it can't be him. He hated us."

"I don't think we're top of his Christmas card list right now, Rach." Quinn looked confused. "I don't get it. Didn't he become a professional ice hockey player?"

The agent looked down at his notes. "He did, and was signed by the Rangers but suffered a serious shoulder injury after just two seasons and was released. He has been coaching at a high school in New Jersey since then."

"Why haven't you arrested him then or taken him for questioning? I don't know, whatever it is that you do." Quinn waved her arms animatedly in frustration that things were still grinding along slowly.

"Er…. well the thing is, he's sort of disappeared."

"What?" Rachel and Quinn were joined by Santana as well at the news as all three said the same thing at the same time.

"We went to his address and he's cleared out, plus he hasn't shown for work for the last three days."

"Oh my God!" Rachel was white as a sheet again.

"No, this is good. It probably means this is the guy. I really think we're on the right lines at last." The agent looked pretty pleased with himself. "We can put him on a wanted list now so as soon as he shows up somewhere, we can take him in."

"No, Mr FBI agent it is not good news," Quinn started out.

"His name's Greg," Santana reminded her.

"Greg, whatever. He probably still has friends in Lima and they might just be stupid enough to protect him."

Santana's heart sunk. She had a feeling and there was no denying the power of her Mexican third eye, this was going to get ugly.

-The VIPs-

Quinn lay crumpled on the floor of the gym. Rachel was sat on the edge of her seat nervously watching and Santana was on the phone to Karofsky again about security updates from Lima. She was of the opinion that it might be safer to move her short friend out of town, but she was just so well-known she didn't know where they could go or even if she would agree to it until Q was released.

She openly stared at the blonde who was making what looked like a futile attempt to get back into her wheelchair from the floor. Growling down the phone, she counted to ten to maintain some composure and told Dave to get his act in gear and sort out the patrol unit who were currently in a queue at a drive-thru waiting for lunch, instead of reporting activity back to her as they should be. "Dave, I'm just going to say this to you once, I don't give a rat's ass if they need to eat, they can do it later. Haven't they grasped the concept of a lunch bag yet? Dammit!"

She rubbed the back of her neck with her hand and sighed. They had spent two weeks trying to locate Rick Nelson but so far the guy was a ghost. From what she remembered about him, he had a bad haircut and a worse mouth on him. The rest was a bit of a blur. They hadn't been part of the same social circle.

Rachel looked like a woman on the edge. Every day this dragged on seemed to age her friend a little. At least Quinn had distractions, Rachel had nothing but more worry. She seemed to be living the pain for the both of them.

"Oh, come on Q. Get your bony ass back in," she eventually got fed up of watching Angela make nice.

The blonde rolled her eyes and glared at her.

"That's good, use that little bit of anger burning inside you right now." Santana grinned at her former teammate.

Quinn's eyes narrowed and she growled as she pulled her hips up as far as she could and dropped stomach first onto the seat of the chair, but try as she might, she was now a little stuck. Her legs were no use and her arms weren't strong enough to make up for that yet. She dropped back down to the mat and sighed.

Angela decided to try something a little different and removed the three inch thick cushion from the seat of the brand new wheelchair.

Quinn glanced questioningly at her but without actually speaking.

"Makes it lower for you. Try again."

Quinn rolled her eyes and set about the task once more.

"Isn't it rather unhealthy for Quinn to sit without the cushion. I thought that was the whole point of paying out hundreds of dollars for the thing." Rachel was feeling testy.

Angela turned to answer the question, taking her eye off her client for a few moments. "Once she gets in the seat, she can move to a level surface, transfer out of the chair and replace the cushion and transfer back again afterwards."

Rachel nodded, finally understanding the process, however the only wrench in the works was the fact that Quinn still couldn't get in the chair and rotate her hips round. Rolling over in bed was causing enough problems, in the chair it was twice as hard.

The long pale arms grabbed the back wheels and hauled the resistant lower body as far over the seat as possible, so that Quinn was almost hung off the side. Her hips were finally high enough however, that with Angela's help, she was able to twist her body out from under her and with a rather dramatic huff, pull her legs into the chair.

At least she could bend down and pick up the cushion without falling back out again now. She allowed herself a little smile of satisfaction before Angela made her do it again.

Rolling her eyes, she puffed the hair that had fallen into her face. "Did you ever meet a cheerleading coach called Sue Sylvester?" The blonde muttered. "Because you kind of remind me of her right now."


	11. Chapter 11

thanks for the great reviews. here is the chapter that really ramps things up. very dark (which is hard for me because i am definitely a sunny kind of person)

The usual disclaimer applies

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Chapter 11

"Okay, here are the release papers for you to sign if you are happy with everything. The nurse will come by and give you a couple of weeks' worth of essentials so you don't have to worry about getting to your regular physician in a hurry. The doctor has sorted out your medications and painkillers, so once you have everything, you're good to go." Elise handed over the paperwork for Quinn to sign.

"I thought I was going to have to do another week. The doctor said he wasn't happy that I still needed the nurse for …. well, you know?"

"I suggested that the resources needed could be provided by an external agency. Your chair came last week, you can manage your bladder independently and you have a support team in place until you can take care of everything yourself. I don't see why you have to stay here when you can attend outpatient services in Lima, Quinn."

Quinn glanced at the discharge papers and dropped them back on her bed. "I just …. I guess I just don't feel ready."

Elise glanced at her watch. She had time to talk. "Come with me to the café; let's go get something to drink."

Quinn looked at her. "Don't you have work to do?"

"Nothing that won't keep," Elise nodded towards the door and Quinn followed.

The moved down the hallway following the familiar journey to the café.

"What are you worried about?"

"Everything," Quinn was honest enough to admit that. "I guess you think that sounds kind of dumb. It's not like I haven't done this before."

Elise was quiet for a moment, sensing the younger woman needed to get some things off her chest.

"It's just that, while I am here, it's not forever. Once I leave….."

"It's the finality that is getting to you?"

Quinn sighed. "I've known all along even though it's only been two months, that I wasn't going to get away with it this time. I feel a fraud."

Elise raised an eyebrow. "A fraud? You're going to have to explain that one to me." They turned into the café, where the noise of cups, brewing coffee and steam proved to be a distraction for a couple of minutes. Elise didn't ask the blonde to elaborate any further until they had decided upon a drink and taken a spot at a nearby table. "So, you were about to explain the fraud situation to me."

Quinn lowered her eyes. "I have been determined to put on a good show here. Busted my ass to do the training and impress Angela and Larissa, I speak like I know what I am doing but it's all just an act. In reality, I'm scared witless about leaving here. I don't know what to do, where to go, how to act or anything. How am I supposed to go on with a normal life now?"

Elise gave her a sympathetic smile. "It's going to be difficult and sometimes painful to see how your life has changed, but if you make sure you try as much as possible, to do the things you used to, it gets easier."

"But Rachel is just expecting me to go home and then we pick up where we left off and I'm not so sure I can do that."

Elise knew what she was talking about, but wanted her to admit it to herself. "What are you afraid of?"

"Being in a relationship. I don't want to disappoint Rachel, but I think I might and I don't know where to go with that."

"She won't be disappointed. She'll be nervous, worried even, that you are in pain, or upset, or uncomfortable, but she won't be disappointed. I've spoken to her a lot over the last few weeks and I know she is committed and motivated to making sure your relationship is a healthy one. She doesn't feel the need to be your nurse; she wants to be your emotional equal. That's all you have to remember. The rest is easy. You'll find a way."

"Really?" Quinn's brow was furrowed in thought. "I don't want to lean on her too much, emotionally or physically. Do you think I am ready to leave?"

"No one ever feels ready. You will, over the next few weeks, wish you were back here at times. The familiar routine is comforting, but you need to find a new routine. Remember when you felt uncomfortable here and exhausted by the constant moving from one therapy to the next?" Elise watched for Quinn to agree.

"It was like an unwelcome conveyer belt. I couldn't get off it even though I wanted to."

"That's deliberate. The last thing anyone wants is to lie around waiting for life to happen to them. So you have to find a new routine. Plan your days and stick to the plan until you have a new normal. Make sure there is a reason to get dressed and do something every day."

"No wallowing in self-pity?"

"Absolutely none whatsoever."

Quinn allowed herself to breathe a little easier. "I guess I should go and pack my things then?"

"Your wife is on her way over with a car and some 'volunteers' according to my PA who called her a while ago to tell her."

-The VIPs-

The Berry's were good at entertaining and clearly had a plan to entertain Quinn into submission. There were jokes and songs on the way back in the car. Santana tried to block it out as she drove them home. It was still odd to think that this was them taking Quinn home for good and it was the start of a new life for her friends. Whatever happened from now on, they would stay in touch. Rachel had made it clear to her already that they weren't going to allow the detective to fade out of their lives again after the last six weeks.

Hiram and LeRoy were both on top form, explaining that Judy was busy preparing a feast for them and then after their dinner together, everyone would leave them alone to get used to living together again.

Quinn was quiet and apprehensive but smiled a lot even if the situation was a little overwhelming. She was thinking about all the people that she was going to have to get used to having around for a while. Normally, she would have gone to Lima Memorial for continued outpatient rehab services where she had been last time, but they were still having to keep a low profile and so the therapists were going to have to come to the house. PT was going to happen three mornings a week and OT on the opposite mornings. A nurse was going to be there every other day for her bowel routine, until she could manage it completely on her own and finally a social worker would visit fairly often because apparently she was now registered with adult protective services whether she liked it or not and was entitled to their 'support' whatever that meant.

"Is everything alright?" Rachel tugged her arm.

"Sorry, I was just lost in my own thoughts. I'm fine Rachel, really," she smiled reassuringly. "Any news today?"

It was the same question she had asked repeatedly for weeks. Was anyone any closer to finding the man responsible for her current situation? She has stopped hoping for anything, because every time she allowed herself that fleeting moment of joy that perhaps they had, she was soon disappointed.

"Nothing yet," Santana had replied. "They are scheduling a meeting of all interested parties next week to review everything, but we are sort of treading water right now."

Quinn just nodded. Nothing had happened since the attack. Maybe he had been scared off. Maybe they could just get on with life again now.

-The VIPs-

He had thought they might return to Lima somehow. It's what people did when they were scared, run home. He had scoped out the old family home, but only the gay guys had been seen going in and out. He should have guessed really, now that he thought about it. He had never been so embarrassed in his life. All that bragging he had done about knowing _the_ Rachel Berry, how they had gone to school together, how they had been together through high school. In his mind it was all true and he had been to see her shows. He hadn't worked up the courage to speak to her yet, but he wanted to. He had wanted to tell her that they were meant to be together; just like he had made it known to everyone he worked with.

And then she had gotten married to someone else. Not just someone else either, a woman of all things. Their pictures had been in the news and on social media. He had become a laughing stock. They had said cruel and unkind things about him and it was all her fault.

He had bought one of those ridiculous celebrity magazines and their pictures had been all over it. They were just doing it to make him mad, make him look stupid so he decided they needed to be taught a lesson. When he saw who it was she had married he was even madder. Quinn fucking Fabray of all people. He had slushied her so many times when she was a sophomore that he almost laughed. His Rachel Berry had married a loser and he was angrier than he had ever been in his life. He was a joke because of the two of them so they had to pay.

He watched for a few days, then talked to a gardener at one of their neighbors houses. He knew nothing about them except they were related to that 'singer girl' that everyone liked. He kind of just wanted to stab him for saying it so dismissively but he had to remember the real purpose and stopping to kill some jerk was only going to risk being caught before he finished off the job he needed to.

He had driven by the Fabray house a few times in the last week but it was in darkness all the time. Still he figured that would be where they went. Apparently he hadn't killed her like he thought, but she was crippled as a result. That brought a smile to his face. He had liked the poetry of it, seeing as though she had gotten away with it during school. He had laughed with his team mates about her when he had come back to school in senior year in a wheelchair. It had seemed fitting somehow that the uptight bitch got her come-uppance. And then she got better and worse still the bunch of loser geeks went and won that dumb competition and everyone loved them. Everyone in high school was so two-faced.

He waited for something to happen.

After a while he saw a woman get out of her car. He thought it might be Fabray's mother from the look, but he didn't know for sure. She took bags into the house, grocery bags from what he could see. Something had to be happening if food was arriving on site.

But then he saw the police car and that spooked him. It was a good job he had died his hair black. They passed by but he was in his brother-in-law's van. He worked at a ton of properties in this area so no one would guess. He told his sister that her husband was seeing another woman. The dumb bastard had been hitting her since the day they wed five years ago, so he had beat the crap out of him and tied him up in the basement of his parents' old place where he had been hiding out. No one knew he was there. If everything worked out okay he would be gone later tonight and maybe he would take pity on the stupid fuck and call the paramedics for him.

He waited for the police car to circle the block and then he drove off. The people he wanted weren't there yet, but he would be back later to end this once and for all. No one made a fool out of Rick Nelson.

-The VIPs-

Quinn took a deep breath as she paused before exiting the car. She looked around for the transfer board which had slipped down from where it had been placed. She had to brace herself using her arm to avoid collapsing down still. It was becoming second nature, but there was the occasional slip up and it just made everyone embarrassed when she fell forward onto her own knees.

She held the board and waited for one of her volunteers to bring the chair around.

Rachel held the chair steady so Quinn could slide across the board.

"I guess we should really think about the car as well. It's probably going to need some work so you can drive again."

Quinn nodded. "I can still use the bus, but a lot of the subway is inaccessible in New York."

Rachel nodded. "Driving in Manhattan isn't exactly easy either is it?" She was beginning to think about their long term future in a city that was somewhat less than ideal. But if they chose to live elsewhere, that would probably mean the end of Broadway for her, but Quinn was her priority now, not singing on a stage. There were other stages, but Quinn had given up her legs to protect her.

"I suppose I'll just have to roll everywhere," the blonde grinned and then noticed Rachel was off inside her own head again. "Rach?"

"Sorry, what did you say?"

"Never mind. Let's get in the house." Quinn looked at the front path. The cement ramp that her mother had put in to replace the two steps was still there. She always wondered why a permanent one had been put in, rather than a temporary one.

Shaking the thought from her mind, Quinn left the others to bring her bags and rolled up the smooth path to the door, which opened as she approached, her mother already ahead of the game.

Judy crouched as Quinn crossed the threshold with a small bounce of the wheels. Adjusting her feet which had been jostled slightly by the raised threshold, Quinn leaned across and gave her mom a hug. Judy pulled against the curved backrest of the chair, wary that if she wasn't careful, Quinn was likely to lose her still precarious sitting balance.

"It's good to have you home, sweetheart. Was the journey okay?"

"Yeah, mom. Thanks for getting everything ready."

Everyone shuffled into the house and Santana had a quick walk around the perimeter to make sure there was no one watching. It was a quiet day, but she spotted a neighbor watching from the front door. She vaguely remembered the woman from years ago.

Wandering over, she acknowledged the detective and gave her a smile. "I remember you from years ago. You're a school friend of Quinn's."

"That's correct ma'am," Santana just kept quiet and let the woman talk for a moment. She didn't want to draw any undue attention to the return of her neighbor.

"I just saw the car pull up but everyone was already inside before I could get over to say hello. I don't suppose you know what's happening over here, do you?"

"Happening?"

"Well, we had the police here a while back arresting a man who was lurking around and since then we have had the police around all the time. I know about their marriage." The conspiratorial tone was evident as she pointed to the Fabray house. "Of course, it's a good job Russell isn't around anymore; he would never have tolerated that. He was an unpleasant man sometimes. I have always found the Fabray girls very polite and though there are a few people with raised eyebrows about it, you know small town syndrome, right? Anyway what was I saying? Oh yes. Conservative types aren't too fond of them owning the property, but honestly, they are very quiet when they do come home which isn't that often and I know Judy would prefer they be closer. I saw her the other day and she said she was spring cleaning but then I saw Ms Berry arriving with you and I wondered what was going on. Are they having problems?"

"Problems? You know, marital problems."

"Oh I see, no ma'am they aren't."

"Are you one of Ms Berry's entourage these days? I suppose she needs people now she's so well known."

"No ma'am, I'm just a friend as you said before. Actually Quinn is here too now so all is well. I do think we might have some press around though so if you see anyone, perhaps you can give me a call? I can give you my cell number and if you notice anyone lurking, let me know. Rachel and Quinn prefer their anonymity if you know what I mean?"

"Oh I do. I had a nosey man the other day asking me questions and I refused to say anything to him."

"You did? Was it the reporter who got arrested?"

"No, it was just the gardener from two houses down. He said he thought Ms Berry might be around and did I know she lived in the old Fabray house. I told him to mind his business and not be gossiping."

"Gardener? What did he look like?"

"Oh, I guess tall, kind of lanky, short red hair."

Santana's heart raced suddenly. "And its two doors down you say he works?"

"Yes, the Essen's. They've had the same people do their gardening for years."

"Thanks for being such a good neighbor, I'll tell Judy to come say hi later," Santana started walking down the street, once she was out of earshot she started running. Her phone started ringing in her pocket but she didn't stop to answer it.

Her fist beat heavily on the door and she quickly pulled out her badge, trying desperately to catch her breath. She didn't know if it was the run or the adrenalin coursing through her. "Dammit, hurry up!"

A shuffle behind the door resulted in its opening a crack. "Hello?"

"Ma'am, can you open the door please. I'm Detective Lopez, state police." She placed the badge to the crack in the door and it closed briefly before the sound of the security chain being withdrawn. "Ma'am sorry to disturb you but I need to talk to you about your gardener."

-The VIPs-

Rick drove around the block to check that there weren't any police cruisers roaming around. Everything looked clear but he wanted to check. He parked up in the next street and waited for a while. He pretended to look at his phone in order to see if the area was under surveillance or not. He left it half an hour so it was just starting to get dark. So far nothing had driven past yet. Everyone must already be home.

Santana suggested moving Rachel and Quinn out, but it might already be too late for that. Instead she decided they would just bolt down the house. Rachel had listened to their concerns, but refused to go anywhere, she wanted him caught and if they ran, the process would have to start again. They needed to be decoys and lure him in.

The neighbor across the road had been most accommodating and allowed the local police and FBI task force to come through from another street and wait out the stalker. Santana knew the woman would be dining out on the story for years, but she was nice so it was okay.

There was an officer in pretty much every house on the street by seven that evening. They all sat and waited. It wouldn't be long now.

Rick decided the time had come. Rachel Berry and Quinn Fabray were going to experience payback for embarrassing him. He picked up the tool bag and exited the truck then calmly started walking towards the house he wanted.

Quinn refused to lie down, they could all sense this was coming to a conclusion and she didn't want to be caught immobile. Santana had them in the room upstairs so she had already suffered the indignity of being carried up because they didn't have a stair lift or elevator; only the ground floor was accessible.

Santana had one purpose; keep the couple safe. She had two service weapons and both were loaded and ready to be used. Everyone had on a security vest, they were taking no chances. He had used a knife last time, but who knew what he would do in desperation. His brother-in-law was currently in ICU at Lima Memorial with bleeding on his brain from being attacked by bare hands. The guy was nuts. The local police had found him after they had been to speak to his wife, Richard Nelson's sister. She had told them he ran off with another woman, but they weren't buying that. Her brother had told her and he had been seen with her husband's truck. That was what did it for her. She told them about the old place her parents owned and when it was raided, they found the husband unconscious and the truck gone, but evidence of Nelson having been there was all over the place. They had their man, if only they could find the crazy sonofabitch.

"Visual acquired, repeat we have the suspect in view. Headed towards target property. He is carrying a large tool bag so could be armed."

The radio crackling to life spooked Rachel and she just sat very still hardly daring to breathe. Quinn's hand was in hers and it squeezed. The radio chatter was disconcerting.

"Confirm suspect is I-C-1 male, Richard Nelson. Looks like he gave himself a bad dye job too."

The radio went again and the tears were already pouring down Rachel's face.

"Patience everyone, no one move until suspect attempts entry to target property."

"Copy that, be aware we need evidence of threat to life for prosecution."

"Anyone have visual, confirm please?"

"Repeat, anyone have visual?"

"Shit, I think we lost him."

"Must have gone into a garden, find him."

Rick edged the building and glanced around. He could see lights on in the Fabray house. Question was, were they upstairs or downstairs? There were lights on both floors.

He followed bushes to where he knew there was a gap into the Fabray garden.

"Anyone, confirm visual please?"

"Nothing yet. We need to be on the ground."

"Negative, keep looking. We need to catch him in the act."

"He's on the ground somewhere, just waiting for him to come into the open. Target residence is secure."

Santana turned the volume down after Rachel looked spooked.

"Where is he? Why haven't they arrested him yet?"

"They're waiting for him to attempt to enter the house. The street is crawling with cops, try to relax. He can only enter from the ground floor and we have eyes on the whole house.

Rick kind of knew that they were probably watching him and he had already figured there would be a security system in place, so he wasn't going in on the ground floor. He opened the tool bag and pulled out what he needed.

"Repeat, no visual for twelve minutes, suspect must have gone to ground."

"Confirm orders please."

"New orders are to go door-to-door to locate suspect. Caution is advised. He is likely armed."

Santana breathed in and glanced up at Rachel pacing the floor. She approached the window. It was so tempting to just want to look out and see what was happening.

"Rachel please move away from the window. We don't want shadows appearing."

"Oh, god. Do you think he has a rifle?"

Quinn rolled over and took her wife's hand. "Rach, babe. Come and sit down. Read a book or something."

Rachel wanted to argue, but didn't dare.

Santana opened the door to the hallway and waved in the uniformed officer standing guard. "Come watch in here I need to powder my nose, if you get what I mean?"

"Sure thing ma'am," the eager young patrolman replied.

"Please don't call me ma'am again," she looked at his badge, "Ekland. It's just Lopez okay?"

"Sorry, ma….. I mean Lopez."

She rolled her eyes at him. "Get in here and keep the radio turned down, they're spooked okay."

He nodded and tipped his hat to the two women in the room. He glanced around and decided standing against the wall where he could see the door and the window together was the best idea.

Santana went into the bathroom, glanced at the dark circles around her eyes and took a deep breath before 'powdering her nose.'

Rick started up the base of the tree. It was hidden by bushes and by the time he was clear of them, the branches would hide him from the eyes he suspected were watching out for him. It only took a couple of minutes to get about fifteen feet up. His knee was aching as always, but he gritted his teeth and continued, careful to avoid heavy movements that disturbed the leaves too much. The overhang was pretty big and if he could just drop onto the roof, there was an attic window he could get in through.

"Anything guys. Throw me a bone here," a voice again crackled loudly through the radio on Ekland's chest. "I need an update." He had forgotten to turn it down.

"Feds, think they're I charge of everything," Ekland grinned and then stopped when he saw the look on the faces of the two women opposite. "Sorry." He went back to staring at his shoes.

Rick crawled along the roofline until he got to the attic window and prized it open with nothing more than a screwdriver. So much for the fancy security system. He could actually see the cop's flashlight trained on the back door below. Dumbass. He listened out carefully, trying to figure out where people were in the house. He couldn't hear much of anything at first, but as he moved towards the center of the attic, he could hear a strange voice. He cracked open the hatch that would allow him access to the second floor hallway. He listened once more and peeked through to see if anyone was there.

It was empty. He dropped lightly to the floor.

Ekland called out to Santana. "Lopez, you done yet?"

"Shut up yammering!" She called back. "Can't a girl pee in peace," she mumbled to herself.

Quinn looked at Rachel and gave her a soft smile, trying to get her to believe that this would all soon be over.

"Hey, ssh!" Ekland quieted them and turned the radio up.

The radio crackled again. "Confirm suspect is not on the ground, he's either inside one of the houses or outbuildings or he got spooked and took off."

"The truck is still in position, no movement here," another voice replied.

"Search all outbuildings first," an order went out to the officers in the street.

Ekland shook his head as if he thought the FBI agent in charge was an idiot. He heard a sound outside in the hallway and figured Lopez was about to come back in. He went to the door about to say 'what took you so long?' as he opened it but he didn't get a chance to because before he could say anything Rick shot him in the neck with a handgun.

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love your thoughts on this chapter so please review and i apologise for the ending - all good thrillers need a cliffhanger!

i'll try not to keep you waiting too long for the next chapter


	12. Chapter 12

Sorry for the cliffhanger. I wish I could say sorry, but I'm not. Don't hate me but there might be another one here as well ( |D hahahaha!)

The usual disclaimer applies

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**Content warning: Some rather bad words will be said by that nasty stalker man. If you don't like bad language, please don't read it.**

Chapter 12

It all happened so fast that the couple had a moment of abject silence before they realized what had occurred. Ekland fell backwards into the room with the force from the weapon discharged so close to him. As his body slammed down onto the carpet, an audible thud was followed by a spatter of blood from the wound on his chest.

Rachel heaved and then screamed as she recognized the tall features of the man who had pushed past the legs of the fallen officer and slammed the bedroom door shut.

"Shut the fuck up now!" He waved the gun at Rachel. She screamed again, unable to stop herself. "I said shut up!" The menace in his voice was clear and Quinn reacted by yanking Rachel down and wrapping her arm around her wife's mouth to stop her screaming again.

Quinn's heart was beating so fast she actually thought it might actually break through her rib cage and jump across the room. It was strange but as a police officer lay bleeding to death on the bedroom floor, it was this thought than entered her mind. 'Where are you San?' she thought. 'Please help us. We don't deserve to die.'

Detective Lopez was in the bathroom listening. She was pretty sure Ekland was down and for a moment the grief ripped at her throat. She wanted to just rip open the door and shot the guy right between the eyeballs, but the moment she turned the door handle, he was likely to shoot something and she couldn't risk the gun being pointed at her friends. Rachel had stopped screaming at least so he was probably less spooked, but where the hell had he come from? And how did he get through the cordon?

Santana had to put questions aside and just think now. The gun had made a noise, and Nelson was on the other side of the door, probably worried that someone was going to beat down the main entrance and storm the place. He's going to want a hostage so for now at least, Rachel and Quinn are more use alive than dead.

She had already turned off the sound on her radio so she took out her phone and sent a text to Karofsky. She told him to keep everyone back and not let SWAT anywhere near yet; the last thing she needed was that bunch of crazies breaking the door down and causing a shoot-out with her friends caught in the crossfire.

Karofsky texted back to say SWAT were lining up ready to go as soon as the commander gave the word. 'So much for that plan' she thought to herself.

Quinn looked at Nelson. He was staring at the wheelchair.

"Admiring your handiwork Rick?"

"It's true then? Kind of funny really." He kept looking over his shoulder and had the gun firmly trained on the pair of them huddled in the corner.

"I'm so glad _you're_ amused."

"Shut it with the sarcasm, you stupid bitch! I meant because you were so 'inspirational' back at senior prom with that standing up shit. What an odd coincidence to find you back in the chair again now." There was actually a sly grin on his face.

Quinn glowered at him, over the top of Rachel's head. Her wife was on her knees, holding around Quinn's waist; the two of them grasping each other out of fear and the need to at least be together if they were going to die. The thought again entered Quinn's mind that Santana was still absent and then she wondered if Rick had got to her too. Maybe she was dead already. A solid cold lump of fear and horror settled in the pit of her stomach.

"Why are you doing this? What did we ever do to you?"

He laughed maniacally. It reminded Quinn of the Joker from the Batman movie, so out of place was it at that particular moment. And then he just stopped abruptly.

"I couldn't say anything back when we were in school, because … well because Rachel was a bit of a dork, right up until prom and then she goes and gets prom queen and." He stopped again. "How did that even happen? She wasn't a nominee." He shook his head. "Anyway, after that, she wasn't a dork anymore and she went off to New York and got that part in Funny Girl. I went to see it just out of curiosity really and then she saw me and smiled and that was the moment I realized she liked me. I couldn't understand why she ever went out with Finn Hudson, total loser."

"Don't go there," Quinn looked at him with daggers.

"I told you to shut up, Fabray. No one cares what you think anymore. You might have been able to hold court at McKinley but you don't have the power in this room; I do!"

She continued to stare at him but stayed quiet.

"Anyway, where was I? Oh, right. Finn Hudson, giant prick, anyway with him out of the way, I knew we were destined for each other and it was just a matter of time. I wrote to her so many times and just thought she was probably too busy to reply." His face changed then. It became dark and menacing. "Then I read that she was in love with someone else. It was in all the magazines. The people that I worked with didn't believe me when I said it was a mistake, that really she was in love with me, but they laughed at me. They. Laughed. At. Me!"

Santana could hear his voice getting louder. She read another text message. SWAT were at the front door and were minutes from entering. They were going to put in a stun grenade to try and surprise him. Santana took a deep breath. A tactical entry here was a mistake but she couldn't risk Nelson finding out where she was. He would lose it and the first two people in his way would be her friends.

She closed her eyes and concentrated. In her mind she could see the layout of the room. He wasn't going to turn his back on the window or the door. He had gotten in the house and the room without being seen; he wasn't stupid. She imagined he would be where she had positioned herself earlier. She listened to where his voice was coming from; holding her breath so even that wasn't a distraction. She could hear Quinn's voice occasionally but it was fainter, so they were in the opposite corner of the room.

Santana needed Rick to start ranting so the sound of his voice would hide the noise of the door catch opening. She couldn't risk trying to kick it open; that would be foolish. She had to judge this just right; ever had a decision to act been so critical.

'Think, damn it!' She mouthed the words silently and then turned.

"Do you have any idea how it feels to be ridiculed by everyone you know? Like you are something that was scraped from the bottom of a shoe? Of course you do, you were pregnant in school. So you know what that's like. You understand why I couldn't let this go. It's your fault. Imagine how," he seethed with rage "how angry I was when I found out that she wasn't just in love with someone else. She was in love with another woman and that woman was you of all people." He almost spat the words out. "They humiliated me, you humiliated me and I just couldn't stand it anymore. The both of you ruined my life and so now it's time to pay for that. Feeling that knife rip into you was satisfying, but you are just too stubborn to die, Quinn Fabray. Why do you have to be so stubborn?" He stepped closer.

"Rick, please." Rachel was the one who spoke up this time. "Please, you don't need to do this. I'll do whatever you want."

He looked at her like she was dirt. "What can you do now? Everyone knows you're gay already. It's too late for that."

Santana held her breath, counted to three and on hearing those words, she gently turned the handle.

It squeaked a little.

He was just taking the safety off the gun when he heard a noise and turned. He didn't have time to think, the gun just naturally turned the way he was facing and he pulled the trigger.

-The VIPs-

"Officers down," it was Quinn on the floor yelling into Santana's radio. "Officers down, somebody please call the paramedics!" She placed the hand that had picked up the radio back on top of the other one. "Don't you dare die on me Santana Lopez, do you hear me. You better stay alive or I am going to go all Lima Heights on your ass for a change."

Rachel was staring into the eyes of her stalker. They were open but she wasn't sure they were seeing anything.

"Rach, honey. Forget him, check on the cop," she tried to get her wife's attention, but the brunette was just looking at the pale face of the man who had made their lives a misery for months. "Rach!"

Suddenly the shorter woman looked at her and it was as if something suddenly came back to life inside of her. "Sorry," she looked at him. "I don't know if he's alive. There's so much blood."

"Pulse. See if he has a pulse."

"Right, pulse."

Rachel was in shock, not the surprise kind; this was the medical kind. Her hands were shaking and her teeth were chattering even though it wasn't cold. She looked at the stricken police officer and gingerly placed her fingers near his Adam's apple on the uninjured side and pressed. She couldn't feel anything. Then there was a very faint flutter. "It's weak, but I think he has one."

Before anything else could happen, the room was filled with uniforms.


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: Thanks for the reviews. Sorry to have kept you waiting for the next installment - hope it was worth it

The usual disclaimer applies.

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Chapter 13

"Ma'am?"

"Ma'am?"

"Ma'am, are you hurt?"

Quinn turned and looked at the paramedic as though he was insane.

"Ma'am, can you stand?"

She almost split herself laughing.

Now he was looking at her as if she was insane.

"Ma'am?"

"I'm unhurt, but I can't stand." She nodded towards the empty wheelchair. "That's mine. I need to clean up, can you help me up? I think I'm too shaky to get back in it on my own."

The paramedic didn't need to do anything.

"Hey, Quinn."

She turned her head to the side to see a worried looking Karofsky peering at her. Everything was so surreal.

"Dave." She suddenly refocused. "Santana?"

"She's hanging in there. How about you?"

"I need to get to her; she saved our lives."

"Easy, Quinn. Let's get you mobile again first. Your mom and stepdad and the Berry's are downstairs."

"Can you?" She motioned towards the wheelchair, trying to push herself into a more dignified sitting position from where she was slumped against the open bathroom door.

"Sure I can." He lifted her into the chair and then pushed her inside the large, now empty bathroom. "You can clean up first."

Quinn looked at her hands. They were covered in Santana's blood. A shiver ran down the back of her neck. She turned the water on and let it run, watching as it turned from clear to red, then pink and then finally back to clear again.

"Will she make it?"

"She's too ornery not to," he smiled at her in the mirror. "Rachel insisted she go as far as the ambulance doors with her, but they are still trying to stabilize her so your wife was pretty pissed she couldn't get in the back. She should be on her way back up now. I think your folks finally got through the police cordon too."

"Quinn!" Rachel shouted out to her as she ran up the stairs. The rest of the family were right behind but held back from what was now a crime scene. The whole room was a mess with the remnants of the paramedics strewn everywhere. Dave saw them trying to get past the uniforms at the door, but they wouldn't let them so he pushed Quinn out to them instead.

There was a reunion so full of emotion that there were no words to describe it. The combined sense of relief that the worry was over in one sense, but starting all over again in another.

Rachel was eventually peeled away from Quinn so Judy could replace her. The Berry's took their daughter to change her blood-soaked clothing. The diminutive woman was a mess after pressing on the wound in the young patrol officer's neck for what seemed like forever. In reality the paramedics didn't take long to work out who to deal with first.

They were waiting on the stairs behind the entry team who quickly waved them in when the scene of devastation in the room became clear. Ekland was almost white he was so pale; his face seemed like translucent paper and his eyes were empty. The paramedic who checked couldn't believe the guy still had a pulse after so much blood had been lost.

Detective Lopez was lying away in the corner near the bathroom door, blood oozing from the hands of her friend who was trying to keep control of the wound in her thigh. She was half lying on her side, having crashed into the door frame as she fell. She kept her gun pointing at Nelson the entire time though, refusing to drop it until she knew for sure he wasn't getting up. Quinn had dropped to the floor and dragged herself the remaining distance to get to her friend who was becoming incoherent. The blonde's hands were pressing down on the wound, only one releasing briefly to grab the radio on Santana's shoulder to scream into it for help and leaving her bloody fingerprints behind. Quinn could feel the blood pulsing through her fingers, but the paramedics were there so quickly they were able to get a tourniquet on the leg almost immediately.

Rick Nelson was not in good shape. The bullet from Santana's gun had hit him in the chest and he was in trouble. The paramedics had him flat on his back and a defibrillator working to get his heart functioning normally again. Quinn wasn't sure if he had actually been shot in the heart or he had just lost so much blood that there wasn't enough to pump round anymore. She didn't really care. He was a maniac and he had come close to ruining a lot of lives. If his was the only one lost that day, she would be relieved.

-The VIPs-

The race to the hospital began shortly after. Richard carried his step-daughter down the stairs and into the path of the FBI agent in charge.

He approached and she held a hand up before he could speak. "I will talk to you but not right now. I need to see she's okay first."

The agent closed his open mouth and nodded, moving aside and waving her through the cordon to where Richard had hastily pulled up just a few moments before.

Richard bundled past him and didn't even stop to let Quinn transport herself, he just carried her the whole way with LeRoy pushing the chair along after them. For once the blonde didn't insist she could manage herself. Time was a factor and she needed to get into the hospital more than she needed to preserve her independence. Rachel thought about where she wanted to be. There wasn't room for all of them in the car, but she had to choose between her parents and her wife. The latter won out.

"Dad, daddy. I'll see you there."

They looked at each other and nodded. Both desperately wanted to talk to their daughter but understood that at that moment, she wanted to be with Quinn.

Judy kept looking back at them huddled on the rear seat during the short journey across town. She needed to get her brain to register that despite the shock and violence of the scene, both were fine. She was trying to not to hold hatred in her heart, but it was a moral battle that she was losing at that time. She hoped that Rick Nelson was not going to survive after what he had put their family through.

They entered the ER and went straight to the front desk. The nurse looked up and saw them. She took out the registration form and placed it on the clipboard.

"We're busy tonight, but if you fill this out and take a seat, we'll get to you as soon as we can." The battle-weary woman mumbled as though it was her default stride.

Quinn looked at the clipboard and then glanced down at herself; she had some blood on her sleeve but not much.

"Why are you giving that to me?" She was confused.

"You need to see a doctor?"

"No, we came for a friend. Santana Lopez; she was shot. We need to know if she's okay."

"Oh, hold on." She checked the computer. "She was brought in forty minutes ago. They are working on her now. No visitors just yet. They're in the trauma room."

"Working on her? Does that mean…?"

"They're trying to stabilize her before she goes to surgery."

Rachel was still not really herself, but suddenly she took charge. "Look. I am sure that people come in here all the time and tell you that there is a really important reason why they should be allowed through there, but the young woman they are working on is a police officer and she just saved our lives."

"Sorry, really I am. But it's immediate family only."

"Has someone called her parents?" Rachel didn't want her friend to be left alone.

"They're on their way now." The woman tried to give them some reassurance. "There are a number of officers in there as well. The doctors are working on both the police officers."

Quinn pulled at Rachel's hand. "Come on, Rach. We can't really do anything to help so let's just sit and wait for some news. Leave it to the medics to do their job."

The woman was looking at them now with more curiosity than she had been. "Say, you're not… I mean …. You're Rachel Berry aren't you?"

Rachel nodded. "I am."

"Oh-my-gosh. I am a huge fan. I had no idea you were back in Lima."

"Thank you, but right now I'm just concerned with my friend's well-being."

"Of course. If you take a seat, I'll just go and check how she's doing and give you an update."

Rachel gave a grateful smile. "Thank you." It seemed that celebrity status at least had some advantages.

-The VIPs-

Multiple shooting victims were not common in Lima, so for three to arrive at once left the ER staff short of personnel. Where there was rarely a need to rush on a normal day, they were instead facing time critical decisions which forced many to question their morals. Who goes to the OR first? The most gravely injured was the shooter, but there were police officers all over the place and the chief of emergency surgery had a dilemma. Do you take the bad guy or the good guys first?

The female detective was the least serious of the three at that particular time, she was clamped to stop her bleeding for now but they faced the prospect of her losing her leg if they didn't get her to theater soon. The uniform officer was in worst shape, but mostly through blood loss and he needed transfusing until he was stable; surgery was still too risky on him just yet. His wound was less serious, but it had been inflicted some time ago now and he was in shock. There was a danger that his organs may start to fail. Nelson was the problem. He had a chest wound and was leaking blood as fast as they could pump it into him, plus he was seizing fairly frequently. The surgeon had heard some officers hoping he wouldn't make it for his actions, but others who wanted him to face justice. The question in his mind was, could they realistically save the man? It seemed unlikely that he would make it through surgery until they could get the seizures to stop, whereas the detective they definitely could save; her leg was another matter.

"Doctor? They're waiting in OR3 for an answer. Ortho and neuro are on standby."

He shook his head. "Take the woman up first. She'll make it even if she loses that leg. The other two both need to be more stable before we risk them in theater."

The orthopedic surgeon waited patiently, checking the X-ray once more while the vascular surgeon did her thing.

"All done?"

"Yeah, the graft is holding and the foot is pinking up nicely. She's all yours."

"How's the nerve looking?"

She screwed her face up under the mask. "Looks like she might have had a narrow escape with it. I doubt she's going to be walking the beat anytime soon."

"She's a detective actually," one of the other medics noted.

"Okay team; let's get to work on that femur." The ortho guy stepped up to the table and peered into the open thigh. "God, what a mess. We're going to need external fixation to stop her losing a couple of inches. Let me have the drill please," he held his hand out to the scrub nurse beside him and got to work.

"Don't forget we need the bullet for evidence," the departing vascular surgeon called out to one of the team.

-The VIPs-

The news anchor in New York had read the story handed to him in the advert break. He quickly showed it to his co-host. She took it and looked at him in surprise. "Rachel Berry?"

"I know!"

The camera started broadcasting and he went straight to the breaking news.

"Tonight we have the most extraordinary story coming out of Lima, Ohio where law enforcement officers were engaged in a shoot-out at the vacation home of Broadway star Rachel Berry. The reporters on scene have been talking to witnesses and officials as to the exact details of what went down. Linda has this report from the scene in Ohio."

The cameras cut to a female reporter from a local syndicate.

"That's right, Bob. Law officials were on scene tonight in this quiet residential street when gunshots rang out from the substantial property owned by Rachel Berry and her wife Quinn Fabray. The house is actually the childhood home of Ms Fabray and the couple reportedly use it when returning to their home town."

Cameras cut to the view of the house from somewhere down the street. The scene was quiet but evidence that it had been chaotic was everywhere. The street was cut off by police officers. There were CSIs in coveralls roaming around, plus neighbors out watching the evidence collection and clean-up. Blood soaked remnants were strewn across the street to where the ambulances had pulled up and there were a number of police cruisers still with lights flashing parked around as well as unmarked FBI cars.

"We are not yet certain of the exact details, we're still waiting for a statement by local law enforcement but so far we believe that Ms Berry may have been the victim of a stalker for some time and that officials on scene here this evening engaged in a confrontation with the man himself. He has been named as Lima native Richard Nelson and was a student at the same high school as Ms Berry and her wife."

A picture of Rick Nelson appeared on screen.

"Neighbors have stated Ms Berry and Ms Fabray were at the property this afternoon but we don't know if they were still here at around eight o'clock this evening when shots were fired. Two police officers were injured in the shoot-out along with Nelson and all three were taken to Lima Memorial hospital suffering from gunshot wounds."

The cameras cut back to the studio.

"We will be back with this story after this message from our sponsors."

-The VIPs-

"Ms Fabray, were you aware that Richard Nelson was in the house before he shot Officer Eckland?"

"No, we didn't hear anything. San…I mean Detective Lopez, needed the bathroom so she called in Officer Eckland to keep guard. He came in, kept his eyes on the window and door and paid attention to the radio announcements. He heard something I guess outside the room, or he just wanted to see where Detective Lopez was. Anyway, he went to the door and then there was a gunshot and he fell back into the room."

"What did you do at that point?"

"I don't remember, I mean I was scared to death, but I think Rachel was more scared and my attention fell on her briefly. I think we sort of moved as far from the door as we could."

"Then what happened?"

Quinn frowned. "I told you before that I don't remember everything he said."

"Humor me," the FBI agent smiled.

"He came through the door and I was taken by how different he looked compared to how I remembered him. I wasn't even sure it was him; he had dyed his hair. I told you this already."

"Please, just carry on."

Quinn huffed slightly. She had already been explaining for over an hour. "He was threatening and blaming us for humiliating him, though how I'm not entirely sure, but I think it was to do with our getting married. He was really just psyching himself up to shoot us, I think. He waved the gun around, made more threats and the only thing I could do was try to get him to talk, to stall, but I didn't know that Detective Lopez was still alive. We only heard one shot but that didn't mean he hadn't stabbed her."

"I don't really know what happened first, but before I knew it, the door was open and Rick fell. I thought Santana was okay, but then I looked down and I saw this wet patch on her leg and she dropped down." She frowned for a moment. "I don't even remember how I got on the floor but I remember passing Rick and seeing the blood spread across his chest. His eyes were open but I didn't stop to see if he was okay. I….," she paused. "I ought to have been a better person I suppose and at least checked to see if he was alive, but I couldn't bring myself to do it." Suddenly, her emotions rose as she thought about what she had seen after that. Tears sprung up in her eyes and threatened to overflow. She sniffed and wiped a finger under her lashes to brush them away.

"I saw Santana half-laying, half-sitting in the bathroom doorway. She was shaking and asking me if he was dead, but I just kept saying I didn't know. She still had the gun in her hand raised towards him, but I could see her arm getting weaker. I told her he wasn't getting up," a thought suddenly interfered with her words.

"What?"

"Oh, sorry." She had been distracted momentarily. "I was just thinking, I don't remember what happened to his gun. I suppose he must have dropped it." She shrugged. "I was on the floor then, still don't remember how, I guess I must have just thrown myself down and I was desperate to help her. She looked grey almost. I could see the blood beginning to pool around her thigh and so I just put my hands on it to stop the bleeding. I thought she might bleed out." Another shiver ran up her shoulders and neck. "I wasn't sure if anyone heard anything outside so I remembered the radio she had and grabbed it. It's a good job it was turned on because I didn't really know what I was doing. I just remembered to push the button in and yelled into it that we needed paramedics."

Quinn suddenly went into her own head briefly. She was grateful that she had managed to do something to help. It had been sort of empowering really; knowing that she wasn't useless. "I was wondering how he managed to shoot her in the leg. I mean what are the chances? She a bulletproof vest on, we all did."

"All except Nelson."

Quinn nodded. She didn't express any sentiment one way or the other and the FBI agent checked back over her comments again to see if she had done that anywhere but she had remained neutral about the man the entire time.

"How do you feel about Rick Nelson now? He was responsible for your injury and Detective Lopez'."

Quinn turned to face him. "I'm just relieved that he is not going to hurt anyone else anymore." A heavy sigh followed. "Is that everything now?"

"Not quite. Can we just run through the events one more time, please?"

Quinn shook her head. "Again? Not happening. I want to go to the hospital to see my friend. You know, your colleague and the person who saved my life and my wife's life? I've already talked you through it twice." She was impatient and the FBI guy was being a pain. "My back hurts sat here for so long, did I mention that earlier?"

"You did and I appreciate this has been an incredibly difficult day…"

"Tell me this. How did he manage to get into my house, into that room? I've answered a lot of your questions; I think the time has come for you to answer some of mine."

The FBI agent sighed. He had hated this case from the beginning and he had about as much love for the New York branch of his agency right now as he did for Rick Nelson.

"I'm sorry, Ms Fabray. Until the investigation is complete, I cannot be forthcoming with any details of the operational procedures that were followed, however in the fullness of time…."

"Save it! I don't need to know this very second, but I do need to see my friend. I'm guessing you have no right to detain me further so I'm rolling my butt out of here to go see how she is and my wife is coming with me, so you can go tell your colleague in the next room that he had better wrap it up because we're out of here. If you need to go over this again, you can do it tomorrow, or maybe the next day."

"Ms Fabray…." He started, but found she wasn't listening and was already halfway out the door. It was hard to get tough on someone in a wheelchair.

Quinn had made him uncomfortable and that was just fine with her.

"Mom, can you get me to Lima Memorial please?" Judy stood as Quinn emerged into the hallway.

Rachel came out moments later from the interview room adjacent. "Hospital?" She looked hopefully at Quinn. "I need to see she's okay for myself.

"Let's get out of here."

-The VIPs-

There were still quite a lot of police officers in the hallways of Lima Memorial. Two of their own injured on the same day was rare, particularly under the circumstances. Many had stuck around just to chase off the media, who were cooking up a storm once they found out the details of the incident. As usual, what they didn't know for sure, they would probably just make up.

"Sarge?"

"Lopez, what am I going to do with you?"

"Tell me I'm not fired?" She tried to shrug but it wasn't easy from her prone position.

"You're not fired, though whether you get your badge back anytime soon is not up to me. That will be the doc's call."

Santana scowled at him. "Did you just come to tell me that?"

He grinned at her. "Nah, I was coming to tell you, you did real good. You took out that scumbag S. O. B. and probably saved the best singer on Broadway so you're all good in my book."

"How's Ekland? The medics are being a little tight lipped about him."

The sarge looked away briefly. "He's not in good shape, but he has a chance. He's still listed as critical."

"Nelson?"

"Stroked out at the scene. They say he'll probably make it, but how much of anything is left is anyone's guess. Massive brain damage from the stroke. If he's ever fit to stand trial it will be for the murder of his brother-in-law and four counts of attempted murder. He's not going to see the light of day again even if he does pull through. At least it was ruled a good shoot straight away, no lengthy investigation thanks to your friends' statements."

She nodded slowly. "How are my friends?"

"Worried about you largely. They both gave the fibbies a mouthful for screwing things up. I'd like to have been a fly on the wall in the interview room." He chuckled. "I think the blonde one's pretty scary."

"Sarge, you think I'm bassass. I have nothing on Quinn Fabray."

Right on cue, there was the sound of voices in the hallway.

"Officer, do you know who I am? Let me tell you, you have no idea who you are dealing with. Have you even heard of Broadway?"

Santana groaned. "Sarge please, let her in before she instigates a riot."

"Quinn?"

"Nuh-uh. That's Rachel Berry. The one and only. Not quite so 'charming' when she's mad." She alluded to the sarge's description weeks earlier when all this had kicked off.

"I'll get her in here right away then, however I need you to know the brass want media to get a load of this. They are going to authorize the cameras in to see you." Santana grimaced. That was just what she didn't need. He smiled and shook her hand before going outside to let Rachel in.

There was a brief moment of quiet and then Santana heard Rachel again.

"Sargent? Are you by any chance going to ensure that Detective Lopez is decorated for this? I hope the state police understand the importance of …."

At that point Santana squeezed her eyes shut and put her fingers in her ears.

"Oof! Hey!" The detective felt something soft hit her in the face. Opening her eyes she met the bemused gaze of one third of the 'Unholy Trinity'. "Watch it, Fabray."

Quinn's face broke into a sympathetic smile as she rolled her chair as close to the bed as she could.

Santana wanted to raise herself up in the bed so she could greet her friend properly but she was immobilized for the time being. She saw Quinn's eyes roam down to the circular metal rings around her thigh and the pins that ran into the bone. Her right leg was hooked up to a hoist suspending it in an elevated position until the swelling had subsided enough for her to be moved. There was a large drain into her leg to drain away the fluid that had started to build and the red liquid was running into a bag fastened beside the bed.

Quinn's fingers reached forwards and the hesitated, not wanting to hurt her friend. She found a hand grasping her own instead.

"I don't even….," the blonde started to speak. "I mean, you know how I …."

"It's okay, Q. We're all okay, right? Still breathing in and out."

The blonde head dropped. "I don't want to think about …." She had tears running. "I thought you were dead. Twice."

"Twice?"

She nodded. "I thought when he shot, what's his name again, the poor guy."

"Ekland," she replied.

"Ekland, right. When he shot him, I thought maybe he got to you first because I couldn't hear you anymore and you were lying out in the hallway. And then later when I saw the smoke from his gun," Quinn's eyes showed fear. "I thought he missed you because your gun was straight out in front and then I saw you fall…. I've never been so scared."

"That's saying something considering what you went through." San squeezed her hands. "But I'll be okay."

"They said your femur was shattered by the bullet."

The darker woman nodded. "That's what this contraption is for. Apparently, when they take me off the good drugs, it's gonna hurt like a bitch." She sucked the air through her teeth. "Right now though, you know what?"

"What?" Quinn gave her a half smile, sensing something funny was about to leave her friends mouth.

"I'm just happy to hear your wife unload both barrels on the uniform at the door. I have to give it to her; she's irrepressible."

Quinn smiled and gave her friend a gentle punch in the arm. "Behave. She's about to get very mushy on you and she has reinforcements, her very grateful parents and mine."

-The VIPs-

"So I don't get a choice in this?" Santana looked at the sarge.

"Do you want to get stuck with VIP duty some more?"

"No offence, but not until hell freezes over."

He laughed at her. "I like you Lopez, you're funny. If you want out of my division, you need to play nice for the brass and then I'll tell them you're ready to move on."

The young detective let her head fall back in relief. "Okay, I'll talk to them. You better tell me what I can and can't say so I don't blow it."

-The VIPs-

Rachel was on the sofa and Quinn beside it in her wheelchair. Judy looked nervous and LeRoy wasn't much better.

The doorbell rang and LeRoy escorted their visitor into the room.

Jacob glanced at Rachel first with a genuine smile and then tried to keep it just as wide when he looked at Quinn Fabray. He was overcome with anger at what he saw but swallowed it.

"Hello Jacob." Rachel gave him the professional tone. The anguish he had seen last time was gone, but worry was still present on her fine features.

"Hi Rachel. Thank you for getting in touch so soon. Hi Quinn."

The blonde eyed him and smiled. "It's been a long time. What happened to the 'fro?"

He gave his gap-toothed grin in return. "As you say, it's been a long time and fashions change." He was clever enough to know he had never been fashionable in his life.

Quinn laughed in return. "Why don't you grab a seat and mom will get us something to drink. She needs to be occupied before she worried herself to death."

Judy looked up suddenly and gave a nervy smile. "Quinn," she sighed. "I wish you would take this a little more seriously."

The blonde shrugged and shook her head. "As I have recently discovered, life is much too short for that."

Jacob eyed her carefully. He wondered if it was bravado, but then the Quinn Fabray he remembered had more front that the Willis Tower in Chicago. "I was sorry to hear about the attack." He alluded to the wheelchair.

"Which one?" Quinn replied, but then looked contrite after her mother glared at her. "Thank you for the sentiment, Jacob."

"Are you sure you want to do this now?" he turned to Rachel.

"Yes. We are being hounded by the news media for a statement at least. I made you a promise so let's get this done and then we can talk to the news people and then we can put this behind us."

"Is it alright to record our conversation so I don't have to make too many notes? I can run two machines and then you can have a copy too."

"One will be fine, Jacob."


	14. Chapter 14

Thanks for the reviews, glad you enjoyed it. No major cliffhangers keeping you in suspense this chapter.

The usual disclaimer applies.

Chapter 14

Quinn moved easily along the corridors of Lima General. She knew them well. They hadn't changed in the years since she'd been cooped up there after the car accident. Santana was hopefully getting released because if they changed their mind like they did yesterday, her friend would literally erupt with frustration.

One of the wounds had gotten a little infection and the staff didn't want her leaving until they had a chance to get it under control. She'd been there two weeks now and was getting to the point where the staff had pretty much had enough of her as she had with them.

Santana did not make a good patient, largely because they told her not to move too much, not to poke at the wound, not to try and do things herself, etc, etc. Detective Lopez was not one for taking instructions well.

At least the bone was showing signs of healing so it looked like she wouldn't lose her leg. It had been a close call though. The large metal scaffold around her thigh drove her nuts and it would be months before she could walk properly, but as long as there was no recurrent infection in the bone, she would still have two of them to stand on. That good news had gotten the detective through the first week but now she was virtually crawling the walls to get out.

The problem was though, that her apartment was up three flights of stairs with no elevator and the doctor wouldn't sign the release papers until she could convince him that she had someone looking after her for a while. The leg was too fragile still to walk on and so she would be rolling around in a wheelchair at least for a few weeks. That meant no grocery shopping or social life to speak of.

The detective had groaned at the prospect of her mother running her life for her until she was up and around again.

Of course Santana hadn't counted on the whirlwind that was Rachel Berry. As soon as the problem was identified Rachel had gone to speak to her doctor.

_"Doctor, a word if it's convenient." She always spoke with authority. She plastered on her best Tony Award smile as she addressed him. "Now I am sure you know who I am as a distinguished member of the medical profession, an intelligent man such as yourself must be versed in cultural events. I would like you to release my good friend and savior, Detective Lopez, into the care of myself and my wife. As we have a fully accessible and up to code first floor, the detective will be perfectly comfortable staying with us and of course I will see to it that she receives excellent follow-up care and attends her appointments as necessary. I really do think it would be the best solution all round, no?"_

_"Er, Ms Berry. Thank you. At least I think I should probably thank you." The doctor hadn't heard someone actually speak in such a long rambling way but without a hint of confusion or delay. It really was the most extraordinary thing. "Ms Lopez has…," he wasn't allowed to continue._

_"Detective Lopez," the diva reminded him._

_"Apologies, Detective Lopez has signs of a small infection around the site of one of the scaffolding pins. It needs some antibiotic treatment, however if that goes well and it is brought under control quickly, she's all yours in forty-eight hours." Truth be told, his staff were going to be ecstatic to get rid of the woman. She might be a hero but as a hospital patient, she was a pain in the ass. "I'll have a resident organise the follow-ups. She might struggle with a regular vehicle so you might have to contact a medical transport company to start off with and she'll need dressing changes every day initially."_

_"That doesn't sound too difficult, doctor. I'll liase with your people about her specific needs and get the ball rolling."_

_"That sounds most amenable, Ms Berry. Thank you for er.. being so accommodating."_

_"Nothing is too good for the person who saved my life and that of my wife as well." She gave him a smile and turned to leave. _

"Rach, babe? All organized? Quinn checked with her wife that everything was ready to go. Rachel was gong to travel in the ambulance with Santana and Judy was giving Quinn a ride back home.

"I spoke with Maribel just now and she insisted that she come over and help out until Santana is okay to manage on her own. She's meeting us at the house and bringing food. We have so much food now, there really is no more room in the kitchen; we have groceries for weeks."

They had been inundated with help since the shooting. Grateful neighbors who had no idea that a maniac was in their midst had brought around numerous food-related gifts. Well-wishers had inundated Rachel's agent with gifts and they had started arriving fairly soon after they went home. The local and state police were constantly checking up on them but also bringing food around after Quinn and Rachel had done their bit to keep two officers from bleeding out. It had been an insane couple of weeks. For the first time since the attack on Quinn, they had been able to reply to all the curious questions and worry that was plastered all over their social networks. Quinn hadn't been able to look at it until the threat was over; it had been too painful to think about all the people who were worried about them.

Plus of course there had been the media storm. It had died down a little the second week, but still they felt like bugs under a microscope and they had to fend off constant requests for interviews. Whilst the story had run, both had been inundated with requests from friends, both old and new to visit them, but it was all too much under the scrutiny of the little camp of media crews at the end of the street, so they had said their thanks but asked everyone to be patient so they could just find some firm ground.

Rachel had felt suffocated in Lima when she was younger and Quinn arguably more so. Both had feared being stuck there for the rest of their lives, and yet somehow it didn't feel like it did when they were in high school. Perhaps time had allowed their town to develop a more liberal attitude, but it felt friendlier than the big city. They both loved New York and yet the people they had developed friendships with there still seemed less important than the ones they left had left behind in Ohio.

They hadn't even thought about when they might return to the city, but at least for now, the decision was irrelevant. They had a friend to support in a time of need and until she was fit enough to go home and take care of herself, their place was in Lima. The time would also give Quinn the space to get used to life outside the hospital and continue her outpatient rehabilitation. Of course it helped them to feel safe that Rick Nelson was handcuffed to a bed in ICU despite remaining comatose.

"Let's go see if they will cut her loose then," Quinn acknowledged.

"Are you okay? I mean we haven't really had the courage to voice our feelings to each other fully yet." Rachel sighed after she spoke. She was doing that a lot lately without realising it.

The blonde squeezed her wife's hand briefly before returning to push the wheels of her chair. "I'm not but I think I will be eventually. What about you?"

"I haven't been sleeping well as you know. I did think it might be a mistake to stay in the house, but I am pissed that, that man; I'm so angry at him, I can't even bring myself to say his name, has stolen my sense of security. I am so angry about it that I refuse to consider moving out. Eventually I guess I will sleep through." Quinn had known because she found it hard to sleep herself as well. They were sharing a room but not a bed. She still needed a hospital bed for the time being and they were made for one.

Rachel continued her dialogue. "The counsellor is helping. Are you okay with the woman you have been seeing?" Rachel bit her lip. She was worried about them both. They had just been through the most horrific ordeal and yet apart from the odd nightmare and spending several hours with a therapist each, they seemed to be coping well; almost too well.

"I guess we are just resilient now. I'm going to thank Mr Schue when I see him and Coach Sylvester. Between the abuse I got from her as a Cheerio and from everyone else for being in Glee, I think we grew a thicker skin maybe."

Rachel threw her head back and laughed. "I really do want to go see them soon. We have a standing invite to go into McKinley anytime we like and Mr Schue invited us for dinner, though I think with all the food we have at home, maybe we should invite him over instead?"

"That's a good idea, Rach. We can't eat it all ourselves and San's going to be stuck in the house on her own if we abandon her, so let's have everyone round instead. I want to live again. I'm tired of not having a life."

—The VIPs—

"Seriously, you let my mother in on the gig?"

Quinn cringed. "San I love you, but I can barely get myself in and out the shower and Rach is half your size so we were always going to need some help here. Would you rather hire a nurse?"

"Gods no," she pulled a face. "It's not half as glamorous as I thought it would be." The couple looked blankly not understanding. "Being a superhero. I swear it's supposed to be sexier than this." She pointed down at the inter-connecting tangle of metal that circled her thigh. "Plus no one told me getting shot hurts like a bitch."

"Stop complaining and put your jacket on, they just agreed to spring you. You've been nagging them all week and now you're wasting time yapping like a terrier."

Santana huffed as Rachel slipped a jacket around her shoulders. "Are you sure about what you're wearing? It doesn't leave much to the imagination. There are press outside. How do they even know you're getting released today?"

"Brass probably. They're enjoying this positive media thing."

Quinn laughed. "I never thought I would see you looking so uncomfortable under the glare of cameras as you were last week."

"You can talk. How come you haven't had to say anything yet?"

Quinn's smile faded. "Rachel released a statement from both of us. Plus Jewfro's article is out today. I really need to stop calling him that. Jacob's article."

"You realise it's going to go viral and shit?" The detective was slightly bemused that they had been willing to let him have the story, but better him than some national getting the scoop.

"It pretty much already did. The nationals bought it off him." Rachel sighed. "I know I wanted to live in the spotlight, but not like this."

"It'll blow over," Quinn assured her. "Come on Lopez, shift your butt into the chair. I'll give you lessons when we get home."

"Oh I see how it's going to be, Fabray. You think just 'cause you got more experience I won't run you over?"

"Please, you're only mildly impaired. A gunshot would doesn't really even count as a proper disability."

Santana shook her head. "You'll always be HBIC, Q. But don't get me all emotional, I do not need messy mascara in front of no TV cameras okay?"

The blonde girl grinned at her. "Come on, let's go home."

—The VIPs—

"Quinn?"

"Mr Schue! You called back. Thanks for returning my call."

"I've been so worried, well actually we've all been worried about you guys. How are you? How's Rachel?"

"Whoa there, one at a time."

"Sorry, we've just been desperate to hear from you. I called your mother last week and she said not to bug you for the time being and you'd get in touch when you were ready."

"Yeah sorry about that. We just had a ton of interviews with the police and FBI, as well as the media crawling everywhere; it was a lot to deal with."

"Have you been able to talk to someone about it? I mean a professional?"

"Yeah, until we were fed up of talking about it," Will heard Quinn's dry chuckle. "We had counselling most of the first two weeks after. But we had each other as well, so you know, we've worked our way through the worst I hope."

"I just can't believe what happened to you and that you had to pretty much keep it a secret when you really could have used the support of friends too. I don't really understand that."

"We couldn't risk letting out too much information. I guess law enforcement thought the fewer people who knew about this the better. It was hard going but we had an unexpected bonus when it came to support."

"Santana?"

"Yeah, she saved us, literally."

"From what I hear, you did your bit though too?"

"Thank goodness for mandatory first aid training for teachers at my school in New York."

"Emma and I would like to come over and see you if that's alright?"

"Sure, yeah. Santana is staying too until she's back on her feet. Her place has a ton of stairs and you know…. we er… well, we're up to code on the ground floor."

"Quinn, I'm so sorry…."

"Don't be Mr Schue, please. I'm okay honestly. I mean I'm not, but I will be in time so …. well you know I'm not big on sympathy."

"I remember." He went quiet thinking about probably the worst moment of his time as a teacher, the moment they found out that the blonde teenager wouldn't be arriving at the doomed wedding between Rachel and Finn. Finn, he held his breath for a moment, there would never be anything but pain when he thought of that name. He pushed the thought to the back of his mind. "Should we bring the kids? We can have the babysitter come over if you'd rather we didn't."

"Bring them, please. It's not like the house of horrors anymore. The FBI splashed out and paid for all sorts of professionals to come in and make it look nice after the attack so they won't notice anything. It all seems a little unreal to be honest, apart from when we see San's leg and then it sort of brings it all back."

"Well, we can bring food over with us so you don't need to worry about that."

Quinn chuckled again. "Seriously Mr Schue, please don't. Everyone in this town virtually brought us food. We're swimming in it. I think we could open a food bank right now. Besides, it keeps Rach out of mischief. Actually, you might be able to help her out some, she's decided to record for a while instead of going back on stage. I think she's a little worried about being so visible again. I'm sure she'd love your opinion. We have a home studio here so bring your guitar."

"That sounds like a great idea, Quinn. Do you have plans for this evening?"

"Nope, you're welcome to join us. Don't panic if you see TV cameras or the police roaming around, oh and Dave Karofsky calls in here twice a day at least."

Will chuckled this time. "Thanks for the heads up."

—The VIPs—

Will turned into the driveway to find a police car parked outside the house. Quinn hadn't been joking. Just as he and Emma got out and went to let the kids out the back of the car, the front door opened and Karofsky walked out. He didn't close the door behind him, leaving it open. It felt good to be able to do that, just leave the door open and not panic that something terrible was going to happen.

"Rachel, you got visitors," he yelled through the open door. Turning back to the arriving family, he strode straight to his former teacher. "Will, nice to see you again." They shook hands. The officer was a frequent visitor to McKinley and the nature of their relationship couldn't be more different to when the younger man was in school.

"Dave, good to see you. I see you're keeping watch over our VIPs?"

"Yeah. I don't mind telling you how much of a close call this whole mess has been. Between the useless feds in New York not taking it seriously and screwing up the interception here," he threw his hands up. "Lopez saves the day again."

"I wouldn't have expected anything less of her." He grinned and let his son out of the car seat as Dave bid him and Emma farewell and got into the squad car.

"Mr Schue!" Rachel screamed and ran strait to him to give him a huge hug. "It's so good to see you. Thanks for coming over." She glanced nervously up the street.

"Rachel, you left school years ago, please just call us Will and Emma."

"If you insist," the brunette replied. She turned to the redhead stood beside her husband with a sympathetic smile.

"How are you holding up, Rachel?" Emma leaned across and the two women shared a quick squeeze.

"We're coping so far. To be honest, we really just want to have some normality for a while. That's why it's so nice to see the both of you." Rachel lowered her gaze. "And the two of you as well." The brunette greeted the Schuester's two young children.

"Rachel, this is our son, Daniel." He grinned at her, showing two missing front teeth.

"I'm six," he said proudly.

"Really? I thought you would be so much older." Rachel used her best charm on the boy who beamed back at her.

"Uh-uh, I am really six. You're very pretty."

"Thank you Daniel," she grinned back at him. "And you're very charming."

"And this is Molly," Emma introduced their daughter.

"How old are you Molly?" Rachel crouched to the girl who was stood up against her mother's leg.

The girl couldn't pronounce 'three' properly and it sounded more like 'free' but she held up three fingers to prove it.

Rachel chuckled and the girl smiled back.

"They're both gorgeous," Rachel beamed. "You must be really happy."

"We are," Will placed a hand on his wife's shoulder and squeezed gently.

Rachel took a deep breath and glanced over her shoulder. "Quinn's just organising drinks." She wanted to make sure everyone had their emotions in check. "Please don't get too emotional when you see her. She's doing really well and we're trying to keep on an even keel. She really just wants everyone to treat her normally."

Will nodded thoughtfully. "She said as much on the phone. It won't be the first time we've seen her like this, so I guess it won't be so shocking."

"Thank you. We appreciate it. Santana is helping too. She's very good at being in your face with things and is showing a complete lack of tact where Quinn is concerned. It's just what she needs." Rachel led her former teachers through the house.

The couple gave each other a look as they walked past the staircase. It looked so normal and yet it was just two and a half weeks since the shootings.

Rachel called out ahead as she wandered into the kitchen. "Quinn, Santana, the Schuesters are here."

Will had warned his children about what they would see, but he hadn't been prepared for it himself, despite thinking he was.

Quinn was busy in the kitchen filling a jug with water and Santana was lying on the sofa with her leg up, the empty hospital wheelchair beside her.

The blonde immediately placed the jug down and spun around to face her former teacher and guidance counsellor. The moment their eyes met, all three had a few tears.

San glanced over her shoulder and rolled her eyes. "Seriously, I'm the one in agony here and she gets all the sympathy?"

Will stood up after having hugged the blonde woman and turned to face the young detective. "I'm sorry, Santana. How are you doing?"

She pointed down at the crazy-looking external fixation on her thigh. "This is going to leave scars I just know it. I guess that's my modelling career in the can." She shrugged dramatically.

Her old teacher gave her a knowing grin. She was trying to avoid everything getting too heavy, probably for Rachel's sake more than anyone else. They all knew she must be feeling terrible about what had happened.

Quinn rolled over after greeting Emma and lightly punched Santana in the arm. "You're going to be fine in a few months, stop hogging the sympathy."

Rachel looked anxiously at them and finally couldn't keep quiet. "I wish the both of you would stop making light of this. It's not a laughing matter."

Even the two young children noticed the change in the atmosphere and looked to their parents, who in turn glanced at Rachel with worried frowns.

"Rach, come here a minute." Quinn waved her over, seeing the bottom lip tremble slightly. "Sit down," she pointed at her lap and tugged Rachel's hands firmly so she couldn't refuse.

"We're not making light of what happened. We're just dealing with it the only way we know how. It's okay now. Everything is okay now." The blonde woman reached behind Rachel's head and drew her closer until their foreheads touched. Whispering quietly so no one else could hear what she said, Quinn mumbled softly into her wife's ear. "This isn't your fault. None of us blame you and I love you with all my heart."

A tear ran from the dark eyes, running down the length of Rachel's nose and she quickly sat up straight and wiped it away. As she did, she also realised that the hand stroking the back of her shoulders hadn't been Quinn's, but Santana's instead.

"Feeling better now?" the Latina asked as Rachel wiped her face.

The singer nodded. "I'm just going to the bathroom, I'll be back in a minute."

They watched her leave.

Will looked at Quinn, his eyes narrowing. "It was the two of you we were most worried about, but I think we had that wrong, didn't we."

The blonde looked up and nodded slowly. "Yeah, we're okay. Now things have settled down and we're all safe, it's easier than living in limbo, but Rachel's taking the blame for it and it's starting to weigh her down."


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

"Do you want to talk?" Santana had watched Quinn show the Schuesters out. Rachel had been okay for the most part, but underneath the seemingly calm exterior, the brunette was struggling.

She shook her head and then a moment later nodded as she realized she had missed being able to talk to the detective alone since Quinn had been home. It wasn't that she didn't want to talk to her wife, she just missed Santana's frank honesty. She could say things to a friend that she could never honestly express to Quinn.

Quinn heard Rachel and Santana talking and decided to give them some time alone. She shouted through that she was going to lie down for a while and took herself into the ground floor bedroom. It was too warm for the covers, so she simply slid over into the hospital bed she was forced to use until she was stronger and could move back into the regular bed on the other side of the room. She knew this was one of the things that was bugging Rachel; them not being able to share a bed still.

Quinn knew that she would feel more like dealing with this when their life had normalised some more. They still had a house guest the other side of the hallway camped out in the den and neither were comfortable with being too intimate just yet. Quinn didn't even know how to bring up the subject with her wife.

She lifted herself onto the mattress and raised the back to a comfortable angle and switched on the TV. She flicked through the channels and paused when she saw an advertisement for a popular crime show. A shudder ran through her. If things hadn't worked out for them, it could be her and Rachel appearing as the victims. Every time she looked at the stairs leading to the second floor, she had this bizarre sense of doom. They had just avoided going up there altogether, not so difficult for Quinn but for Rachel it was even harder. They had just pretended that it didn't even exist.

She sighed, wondering when, if ever, things would return to normal.

Rachel sat in the chair beside Santana who was still sprawled out on the sofa. The taller of the two brunettes remained silent, letting the other work through what was on her mind.

"You're my hero," Rachel stated simply. "I never thought I would be saying those words to someone who seemed to dislike me so much when I was younger, but it's true. I haven't really told you how scared I was that night and how you saved us from something so horrific I can't describe."

Santana looked like she was going to say something but she stopped herself and let Rachel carry on.

"Quinn's my hero too, but I maybe haven't said that properly yet either."

"You have, plenty of times. Maybe not so overtly but trust me; she knows." Santana ran a hand over Rachel's forearm.

Rachel stared off out of the window into the back yard. "I'm so devastated and I don't know what to do about it. Normally when I feel bad I just sing, but I can't now."

"Why not?" Santana turned slightly, wincing at the pain that ran through her thigh. Before she knew what was going on, Rachel had shot to her feet and held Santana's hand.

"Are you okay?"

"It's just a bit of discomfort."

"Shall I get you some of your medication?"

The detective shook her head. "It only hurts when I move, once I stop the pain retreats. I am fine, Rach."

"But you're hurt because of me and I just f…."

"Enough!"

Rachel's eyes shot wide open in surprise.

Santana sighed. "I know and Quinn knows that you feel bad about this. But how many times do you want us to reassure you and say that it's not your fault. Rachel, shitty things happen all the time. I know you probably don't see it from the dizzy heights you occupy but in the real world, the world I occupy, it happens all the time. Kids get shot because they get caught up with the wrong crowd and a drug deal goes bad. I see domestic violence cases where people do unspeakable things to each other. Then there's sex crimes and incest, robbery, fraud, the whole shebang. You haven't done anything to hurt anyone, at least not since you promised to avoid a repeat performance of 'Run Joey, Run!'

That brought a smile to the singer's face at least.

"See, that's the Berry I have been missing," she gesticulated, palms down with both hands.

"I haven't been myself, not really since the stabbing."

"And I repeat myself. I know; so does your wife."

Rachel glanced towards the bedroom briefly and then just burst into tears. For a few moments, she just couldn't speak.

Santana glanced down at her hands and wondered what it was like to know that it was all you had left, just the top half of your body, even less actually.

"Rachel, look at me."

She tried to do as she had been asked but the tears were free flowing.

Santana tried again. "Rachel?" Their eyes met again. "I don't think Quinn needs your guilt and apologies anymore. I think she needs you back, the real you. She needs you to be happy again, because otherwise what was she protecting? If you can't shake this weight on your shoulders, it will grind you down and ruin your marriage. You deserve to be happy. You didn't commit a crime. Rick Nelson is the bad guy and all Quinn and I did was what you would have done for either of us had the circumstances been reversed."

Rachel wrung her hands together. Angst and distress evident on her face. "I just don't know how to be normal with Quinn now. Every time I go to touch her I worry that I am causing her pain or discomfort, or worse, that she won't feel anything."

"Do you know what I think you need? I think you should book a table and go out for a nice meal. Just the two of you like you would do in New York. Ignore the media if they follow you. Snap your fingers and boss the wait staff around. Demand a playlist of your favorite show tunes or whatever, in true diva style and get drunk. At least to the point where you're not afraid to rip Q's dress off when you get home."

Rachel's mouth fell open. "I…..I don't even know…."

"Of course you do. It's exactly how you would and should behave. Now get on the phone and book something."

"But what about you? We can't…."

"Of course you can. I'll get my mom to come round and give me a hand to get into bed."

"But what if…? I mean, people will see us."

Santana's voice fell low. She didn't want Quinn to hear her next words. "The one thing you cannot do is be embarrassed by or for her, Rach. You hear me? The one thing that could send her over the edge is the thought that you are ashamed to be seen out with her because of the chair. You absolutely cannot let that happen."

The shorter woman nodded. She couldn't change the course of events that had lead them to this situation, but she could do something about this. She could take Quinn out and show her that she was proud of her and not in the slightest embarrassed about the wheelchair.

"You're right. We've been imprisoned for so long, I forgot what it was to be able to just go out and enjoy ourselves without worrying about our safety. I'll put a call into Breadstix now. Quinn said she wanted to go again once all this was over."

"Well, what are you waiting for? It's over. Time to start living again."

—GLEE—

Maribel arrived at seven o'clock to help Santana out and just in time to see her daughter's hosts leaving. She greeted her daughter with a hug.

"Have Quinn and Rachel left already?"

"No, Mami. They're just getting ready."

"It's a shame you can't really go out right now as well."

"Mami, seriously. Talk about being a third wheel. They're going out for the first time since….you know." The younger woman rolled her eyes at her mother.

"Oh, I see. Are they worried about the press or something?"

"I doubt it. They're used to that. It's just awkward. Keep your voice down. They haven't been out anywhere together, you know for a romantic meal or anything since Quinn got stabbed. It's like their first date all over again. They're a little nervy."

"I get it, Santi. Mi amore, are they both doing okay?"

Before Santana could answer her mother, the bedroom door opened and Rachel emerged. She was wearing a gorgeous black dress which hugged her trim figure in all the right places.

"Wow!" Santana's eyes popped. Rachel had dressed smartly but not anything that could have been considered sexy over the weeks since they had reconnected, but the outfit she had on now left little to the imagination. "Jeez, short stuff. Is Quinn dumbstruck in there? I would be if I was about to go out with you."

Rachel blushed and her eyes drooped. She had a small smile on her face and flicked her hair back as she lifted her head.

"Good evening, Maribel. Can we offer you something to drink maybe before we leave? We have a reservation at eight so there's a little time still."

Maribel gave Rachel a squeeze. She had been to the house often over the weeks since the shooting but she hadn't seen Rachel look anything like this before.

"Thank you, Rachel, but we'll be fine. You just go and enjoy yourselves this evening, don't worry about Santi and me." As if realising that Quinn was still absent, she glanced back towards the room. "Is Quinn alright?"

Rachel's eyes glanced away briefly before she nodded and gave a sad smile. "Yes, she's just …. it takes her a while to get dressed still. I was suffocating her a little so she kind of threw me out." Rachel shrugged.

Santana just laughed. "She keeps telling you not to play the mother hen."

Rachel wrung her hands together in the familiar way she did when she was anxious. "I know. I just don't like to see her struggling."

As if on cue, Quinn rolled out of the bedroom and joined the small group. She was wearing a dress for the first time since she was injured and looked both beautiful yet uncomfortable at the same time. Her dress was pale green and matched her complexion perfectly. Rachel had seen the dress before but Santana hadn't.

"Quinn, you look fabulous," Maribel beat her daughter to a comment.

"I'll say," the younger Lopez grimaced as she pushed herself into a better sitting position. "Smokin', Q!"

Quinn adjusted her sitting position in the wheelchair and fiddled with her legs which the dress seemed to be holding together for a change. "Thanks, but I don't really feel smokin'; I feel awkward."

Rachel wanted to say something, but decided that she was going to keep her promise. "Shut up, gorgeous," she leaned in closer, "and give me a kiss." The brunette pressed her lips firmly against her wife's and Quinn actually started to roll backwards from the force.

Grabbing the wheels of the chair, she halted the movement and resisted by pressing back against Rachel's full lips.

"Better?" Rachel asked with a 'no nonsense' attitude.

"Er, yes." Quinn replied.

"Good, then let's go, babe. I'm famished."

Maribel gave Quinn a gentle squeeze and then watched them out of the door. "Have a great time."

—GLEE—

Quinn rolled out of the house somewhat anxious. She had been lying to herself and everyone else telling them that she was fine. She wasn't fine at all. She was paralysed from her rib cage down. She was grateful that at least the fucking psychopath hadn't stabbed her in the neck so at least she could still feel her boobs, but below that there was just a whole load of nothingness. After the car accident, she had lost feeling in her legs, but it started to come back pretty soon after and that had reassured her that she was getting better. This time there was nothing at all. She would be fine in the end, because just like she had gotten used the bit of her heart that Beth occupied being missing, she would get used to the bit that was her freedom and independence missing as well. She felt a sharp twinge of pain when she had to say goodbye to Beth, but mostly she was numb to it after ten years. She wondered if it would take so many years to feel less bad about her paralysis.

Rachel was distraught and she could at least feel some sense of gratitude that her wife was still there. It would have been easy for her to just run away from all the crap. But she was still there. The thing was though, Quinn didn't want a caretaker, she wanted her sexy, sassy wife back. The one who would tease her and pull a diva on her, not the guilt-ridden, worrier that Rachel had become. Quinn wasn't normal, but she was more normal than Rachel. Now though the roles were reversed. Quinn wasn't normal anymore and Rachel was behaving like a regular human being, no diva antics, no pouting and no getting naked in the bedroom either.

Quinn knew that for Rachel to start behaving normally again, the guilt had to be pushed aside, but how do you make someone move past that? It was so hard to make the stubborn woman she had married do anything.

"I'm not going to offer help," Rachel said quietly. "Just tell me if you want me to do something. I know it bugs you when I ask all the time."

Quinn smiled up at her wife. "You don't bug me. It's the situation that bugs me. But thanks for not assuming that I need help all the time."

She swung her leg into the well of the car and watched it drop gracelessly to the carpeted interior. She tried to wiggle her hips around so that she could get the other one in after it, but her dress had them virtually pinned together.

"Babe, you think you can lift my right leg in as I swing over; it's not cooperating with the dress on."

Rachel moved around and let her wife reach over to the steering wheel and pull with one hand, whilst shoving with the other to get into the car seat. She did think that perhaps they should get a different car, but Quinn wouldn't take kindly to that right now. Instead, she slipped her hands under Quinn's thigh and calf to ease it over the lip of the car door.

"Can you manage the chair?" Quinn looked at Rachel's face which seemed lost in thought briefly.

"Of course, you want it in the trunk?"

"That's easiest."

Rachel removed the backrest and folded down the frame for stowing before dropping into the driver's seat. She had become accustomed to someone else driving her around so it felt odd to be sitting behind the wheel again. In New York, she was largely chauffeured around or took taxis. Quinn drove when they left the city for the most part. Since the incident in New York, Santana had taken her everywhere and only since the shooting had Rachel finally started driving again now that their friend and protector was out of action for a while.

"I still feel like I'm on the wrong side of the car," Rachel mumbled.

"It's weird," Quinn turned to her. "I guess I should ask the OT about my license."

"You don't need to worry about it for a while. We can just get a driver maybe?"

Quinn sighed a little. "I kind of miss it though. It's nice to be able to just take off when you want."

Rachel nodded thoughtfully. "It will be nice to have some time alone this evening. I feel like we've been surrounded by people for so long and as lovely as they have all been, it's also quite suffocating at times, don't you think?"

Quinn nodded. "Yeah." She reached across and laid her hand on Rachel's forearm. "I'm looking forward to going out together again, but I'm a little nervous as well."

Rachel didn't play it down or make light of the feelings, she simply acknowledged and accepted it. "Me too," she admitted. "Probably for different reasons but I want to let you know that you look amazing. You're so beautiful and I know we haven't had much opportunity to be intimate with each other, but it's not because I don't think you're gorgeous." She patted Quinn's hand and smiled at her. "I love you more than ever and when we go in that restaurant, I want you to know that more than anything."

Tears pricked at Quinn's hazel eyes. She was determined not to cry, but Rachel's sincerity couldn't be doubted.

"I feel the same. No matter what happened and the cause of it, it can't change how I feel about you and how much I want to be with you. I wasn't joking when I said we should have kids. After this, I just feel like life is too short and I wasn't ready before because of Beth and all that happened at school, but I'm ready now, or whenever you are."

Rachel sighed with relief rather than sadness. "I'm so happy you think like that. I was afraid for so long that you would resent me because of what he did to you and I know you told me that you didn't but it's taken me a long time to realize that it's the truth." She turned to face the blonde. "Do you really feel ready now?"

Quinn nodded steadily, but without a hint of doubt. "I do."

"Me too," Rachel smiled. "Oh, shoot!"

"What?"

"Shelby! We didn't tell her yet."

"Oh, crap!" Quinn pinched the bridge of her nose and shook her head. "She's going to kick my ass and yours when she finds out."

"You're forgetting one thing."

"What's that?"

"Jacob's story. She probably already knows."

—GLEE—

"Hiram?"

"Speaking."

"It's Shelby Cocoran."

"Shelby, dear. How are you?"

"A couple of weeks ago, I would have said I was fine, but now I'm not so sure. Hiram, what's going on? I've been reading all these stories, but I thought it was exaggerated nonsense at first, but I can't get a hold of Rachel or Quinn and I am going out of my head with worry."

Hiram sighed.

"What did you hear?"

Shelby recounted the news from New York and then what she had scoured the internet to find out. "Is it true? A stalker? Quinn stabbed and Santana shot by him?"

"It's true," he ran his hand through his hair. Hiram Berry was a flamboyant man normally, but now he just looked like a worried father.

"Quinn, is she …?"

"Paralyzed. He stabbed her in the middle of her back and the blade went through her spine and severed her spinal cord. She's paralyzed from her mid-chest down." The words still brought bile to his throat from anger and grief.

"Oh my God. Hiram, no."

"They've been keeping a low profile because of the media attention. The police told them to turn off their phones and keep everyone in the dark. We were told in person by a local officer, they wouldn't even let them call us in case the stalker was someone close."

"I just don't even….I'm so sorry that I didn't know before. Is there anything I can do?"

"Come and see them. Bring Beth. If anything will make Quinn feel better, it's seeing her."

"Of course, but …. are you sure it will be okay?"

"Absolutely. You can stay with us. Do you have a pen and paper to hand. I can give you their new number. Santana's staying with them at the moment too."

"Really? I thought she was injured. It said she was shot by the stalker, but she took him out."

"She saved them but took a bullet in her thigh doing it. She can't get about very well at the moment, so she's staying at the old Fabray house. The ground floor was adapted for Quinn after her car accident."

"Oh God, I'd completely forgotten about that." Shelby lost it then and sobbed into the phone.

—GLEE—

Rachel opened the door to the Italian restaurant and held it for Quinn to roll through. The blonde gave her a little smile of gratitude and approached the greeter, who instantly started fawning.

"Ms Berry, how nice to see you here again. It's been such a long time. Of course I remember when you were a student here; all those entertaining evenings, you singing for everyone." He very carefully avoided mentioning the recent news and quickly wiped off the pained expression he wore when he glanced at Quinn, but not before she noticed and gave him a look of contempt.

He showed them to their table and offered the menus while Rachel gave her best Broadway smile and Quinn glanced over her shoulder wondering what everyone else was thinking.

Rachel had seen the stares and ignored them, but she could see Quinn was finding it harder to do that. She wanted to tell everyone to go about their own business, but didn't want to make a scene, so instead she reached across the table and placed a hand on her wife's, lacing their fingers together.

"I love you," Rachel smiled sincerely.

The corner of Quinn's dark pink lips turned up and her eyebrows quirked. She gently squeezed Rachel's fingers and gave her a nod. "I love you too."

"Miss Berry, could I please have your autograph?" A girl approached around twelve or thirteen years old with a napkin and a pen. She looked wide-eyed at Rachel, but when she glanced at Quinn, her eyes descended and an odd expression formed on her face. It was one of curiosity.

"Of course. What's your name?" Rachel used the question to distract the girl from openly staring at her wife.

"Er… Jessica." She turned her attention back to Rachel and blushed slightly. "I'm a huge fan."

"Well thank you. Are you here with your family?"

"Yeah, they're over there," she pointed towards a woman and two teenage boys wearing McKinley letterman jackets.

"Do you go to McKinley too?" Quinn asked.

"Not yet, but I'll be there next year. Only one of my stupid brother's will be there by then, thank goodness." The girl admired Rachel's signature and held it to her chest briefly. "I was sorry to hear about the thing, you know. Are you okay now?"

Rachel smiled at her. "Thank you for saying that, and yes, I'm fine now thank you. Enjoy your meal."

The girl thanked her again and went back to her family giving Quinn a little wave as she went.

Rachel looked at her wife. "Are you okay?"

Quinn gave her a sad smile and nodded. "Yeah. It's going to be awkward for a while I guess. Everyone keeps looking at my face and then I see them look down like the chair is a magnet or something for eyeballs." She shook her head in a bemused fashion. "I'd forgotten what it was like, you know, to have everyone stare at me that way." Her voice sounded wistful as though she was dredging up her old memories of the time just after the car accident. "At least this time around, it wasn't my own stupid fault and I'm not an overly self-conscious teenager anymore."

Rachel smiled softly. "I wish I could at least make this part easier for you." She reached out and took hold of Quinn's hand again.

"You are," hazel eyes fell to the joined hands on the table.

Rachel nodded. "In that case, expect non-stop PDAs wherever we go in public from now on."

Quinn's face broke into a huge smile and they both relaxed a little.

—GLEE—

Santana was in bed when she heard the door open and giggling from her friends. She smiled as they noisily went down the hallway. Rachel stage whispered that she needed coffee to kill the alcohol buzz and Quinn laughed at the fact that they were going to have to trek over to the restaurant to collect the car they had abandoned on account of the decision to order a bottle of wine, and then an hour later a second bottle.

She felt bad for them but honestly, a little jealous at the same time. She wondered what it was like to have the kind of relationship that they did; one that could withstand the serious trauma the couple had just been through. Her last serious relationship had ended because of her overtime and night shifts on the gang unit and the word 'serious' was a generous term if truth be told.

If she had learned anything from this experience, it was that life was too short. The prospect of trawling gay bars for a date wasn't that appealing so she figured maybe joining some sort of group might lead somewhere, that or online was the way forward. Santana promised herself that she would actively seek out a social life from now on; she accepted hiding at work all the time was no way to live even if it got you promoted.

There was a knock on the door and voices hushing each other. "Come in," she sighed heavily. "The two of you are terrible at being quiet when you're drunk."

Rachel opened the door. "I am not drunk, Santana Lopez, I am jus' cheerful." Her voice was slightly slurred and she was ginning inanely.

"You so are though, Rach," Quinn's lopsided grin widened at Rachel's affected look of horror.

The brunette placed a hand on her chest and took a deep breath. "I am an adult so I can choose to be cheerful if I like, 'specially on a Friday night."

"Better make that Saturday…hic… morning, babe." Quinn actually hiccuped as she giggled.

"I hate to break up the comedy routine, but was there a reason for waking me up?"

"Oh, sorry Sannie, we didn't think you were 'sleep." Rachel moved towards her. "We jus' wanted to say g'night and we love you. You really ought t'think 'bout getting a new girl….hic…friend though, 'cause we know you'd be good for someone else." Rachel turned to her wife. "Did that make sense?"

"Why're you asking me?" Quinn's eyes were a little droopy. "I'm drunker'n you." Quinn rolled forwards. "Are you 'kay San?"

The Latina laughed. "I think I should be asking you both that before throwing the pair of you in the drunk tank for the night." She softened at Quinn's perplexed face as the blonde tried to make out what Santana was talking about.

"Pfff, as if you would dare lock us up. Rachel's a big star and I'm a crip." She laughed at her own joke and then closed her eyes for a moment, resting her head across folded arms on the side of the bed. "Jus' restin' my eyes."

Santana pushed herself upright a little and placed a hand on Quinn's head and stroked the soft blonde hair. "I think you should maybe get to bed, Q. You should maybe have stopped at one or two."

"We did," Rachel looked like Stan Laurel with a hapless grin. "First we had one bottle, then we had two." She gave a Gallic shrug.

The detective couldn't help but burst out laughing, rousing the blonde head beneath her fingers. "I meant drinks not bottles!"

Rachel looked amused then spluttered out laughing.

"Are you sober enough to help Q into bed? I think she might need some help."

"I do not need any hel…hic…help! I can manage on my own." The head fell back on her arms after the comment.

"Of course you can," Santana smiled softly and shook her head in amusement. "Rach?"

"Mmhmm," big brown eyes went wide as the brunette tried to respond.

"Are you going to be okay?"

"Yep!" The diminutive woman stood and shook her wife's shoulders. "Quinn, c'mon. Wake up!"

Quinn lifted her head and pushed her body upright again. "I'm 'wake," she responded.

"Bedtime," Rachel indicated they go, but leaned in and gave Santana a hug first. "Love you, Sannie."

"Goodnight Rachel," she nudged her towards the door. "Don't forget your wife."

Quinn couldn't reach over to hug Santana so she settled for blowing her a kiss. "Nighty-night, San."

The detective rolled her eyes. "Get some sleep. I'll see you in the morning with a gallon of caffeine and some Advil for your hangovers. If that doesn't work, I have some _really_ good drugs the doc gave me."

Quinn laughed and then rolled out in a slightly less elegant manner than usual.

—GLEE—

"Urgh!" Rachel's face was not a pretty sight the following morning. She stood looking at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. There were large dark circles under her eyes and her mouth felt like she had been chewing cotton wool balls.

She heard noises and realised Maribel must have arrived to see her daughter.

"Help me. I'm dying!" Quinn groaned.

"You're hungover, babe. So'm I if its any consolation."

Quinn groaned again. She pulled a pillow out from under her head and tried to push herself onto her back from the position she currently found herself in.

She threw back the cover. It was usually easier to roll over.

Then it hit her. The reason she was struggling was because she had slept in a regular bed for the first time since she had been stabbed. A big smile spread across the pale features.

"Why are you grinning when I feel awful?"

"We slept together," Quinn continued to smile. "For the whole night." She sighed and flopped back down on the mattress. "Oh God, I'm so happy right now."

"Quinn Fabray, you are just strange sometimes."

"Yeah, I am. Shut up and kiss me okay. Today is a special day."


	16. Chapter 16

Penultimate chapter I think.

Usual disclaimer applies

Chapter 16

"Quinn?"

"Hey, Hiram. How are you? Are you coming over today? We were kind of expecting you yesterday."

"Well we planned to but I er…. didn't have the car. Well, what I actually mean is that LeRoy was doing something so he needed the car and that meant he wasn't here to give me a ride over."

"Okay, no problem. Is something wrong? You sound a little strange."

"There's nothing wrong with me. I'm in perfectly good health actually as is LeRoy."

"But?"

"Is Rachel there?"

"She's in the studio recording something actually," Quinn sounded relieved that her wife was in fact finally behaving normally and singing again. "Are you avoiding answering my question?" She chuckled at the man. He was usually witty and charming but something was off.

"Actually yes, my dear. I could never lie. I just didn't want to arrive on your doorstep and Rachel be out somewhere."

"Rachel doesn't really do going out much right now," Quinn put her hand over her mouth, forgetting for a moment that she wasn't supposed to be causing their parents any further worry, but it seemed Hiram had other things on his mind and didn't notice the slip.

"LeRoy went to the airport yesterday evening to collect a house guest. We wanted to stop by if you have time for us."

"Hiram, you're always welcome and we don't really have much going on for the next few weeks still. Although we need to go to New York apparently. Our lease was due for renewal and so we are homeless in the Big Apple unless we find somewhere else to live soon." Quinn realized she was rambling again. "Sorry, brief interruption in the signal from my brain to my mouth. Who's your visitor?"

"Shelby," he admitted quietly. "And Beth of course."

Quinn didn't speak for a few moments.

"Quinn, dear. Are you okay?"

"I er… does she know? I mean does she know everything?"

"Pretty much. She read about it and then called after neither you or Rachel answered your phones. I explained about having to turn off your cell phones and change the house number."

"Oh," she replied. It was awkward to say the least. They felt bad for not having said anything to Rachel's birth mother until now.

"Why didn't you call her straight after?"

Quinn shook her head as if he could see. "I don't really know now, honestly. Everything was just so ….." she wanted to say fucked up, but Hiram was big on curse words. "Confused right after and then we actually were just talking about it the other day and planned to call this weekend." Quinn paused. "Is she really mad with us?"

"No," he replied quickly. "Not at all, she was just beginning to get a little frantic with worry."

"Has she told Beth?"

"She's upset. I'm not sure she understands fully, but she knows you were hurt. Shelby told her about your injury but I guess it's hard for a ten year old to fully grasp the ramifications."

"Hiram, I'm not sure I'm ready for facing Beth…. how she sees me…. it's important."

"Not seeing her will only make it worse. You've done harder things in life, Quinn; giving her up in the first place. Surely nothing can ever be that hard."

She let that thought wash over her. "I guess you're right. Are you coming over soon?"

"If Rachel can get away from the studio, we'll leave right away."

—THE VIPs—

Rachel twisted her hands in her lap and waited impatiently for her dads to arrive. She glanced at Quinn so many times, she felt sure her wife would lose her cool soon but Quinn was staring out the picture window lost in thought. She was glad Santana was out having lunch with her family.

The doorbell rang loudly, causing her to jump a little. Quinn glanced over.

"Can you get it?"

Rachel nodded and stood, feeling numb she walked towards the door not really understanding herself why she felt so uncomfortable about this. Shelby was a good friend really, nothing more, at least on a superficial level. They enjoyed her company, she liked theirs. Regular chats on the phone every month and a few visits for lunch or dinner, even the odd weekend together was what they shared. On a deeper level, Rachel wanted her birth mother to love her, but could never really tell her that, not after high school, so instead they were friends. Friends who got along well and had a lot in common, but who avoided deep and meaningful because it would only lead to regret and disappointment.

"Babygirl!" Hiram greeted Rachel as she opened the door to him. The tall man stepped in and just grabbed a hold of his diminutive daughter. He squeezed the life out of her. Rachel was stunned for a moment and then felt a hand slip inside her own.

Hiram released her and as Rachel glanced down she found Beth's huge hazel eyes staring at her, they were almost the same height now.

"Are you feeling better now, Rachel?" Beth's dark blonde wavy hair was tied in a ponytail and flowed around her shoulders.

With a squeeze of her hand Rachel pulled her into a hug and held on, looking over her shoulder to the taller brunette with tears in her eyes.

Shelby watched her daughter's, natural and adopted, stand together and hold each other. Rachel looked the same physically than the last time she had seen her, it had been winter in New York still and Shelby imagined that now the ordeal was over, Rachel would be back to herself, but she looked a little weary and slightly older than she had before.

Rachel released Beth and found Shelby replacing her daughter. She too held on tightly for some time and tried not to cry, but failed.

"Are you okay?"

Rachel nodded. "Better now at least." She stepped back a little. "We're both sorry that we didn't call. It's just been hard and I know you must have been worried, but we were isolated for a while and moving forwards from this is not as easy as either of us thought. We just weren't ready to start calling people we hadn't spoken to for weeks, or months even to explain when it was all so raw and emotional."

Shelby took her hands. "You don't have to apologise, I just needed to see that you were okay for myself."

The shorter woman nodded and looked towards the hallway. "Quinn's nervous, okay? She's… well she's amazing really." She looked to her dads for agreement and found them both supporting what she said. "But she's also worried because everything has changed and …" Rachel sighed. "Just try not to feel sorry for her, please. It makes her feel worse."

Shelby nodded. "I can't promise I won't cry."

She received a sad little smile that almost broke her heart. "I know everyone else has told you this already, but none of this is your fault. I can see in your eyes that you still feel responsible, but you aren't Rachel. Please believe me when I say this."

Beth was moving down the hallway before any of them noticed. Instinct leading her towards Quinn. Rachel was the first to realise and follow her but only just in time to see two pairs of identical eyes lock on each other.

Beth hit the side of the wheelchair as she hurled herself at Quinn. The vibration of her knees banging into the hand rim on the rear wheel made a clanging noise.

"I was so scared, Quinn. Are you okay now?"

Quinn could only nod, trying to keep the emotion from spilling over. She was still desperately hanging onto her dignity and didn't want anyone to see her fall apart, but it was a losing battle. Gradually each time someone saw her for the first time since the stabbing, she came closer and closer to what everyone suspected would be a tidal wave of emotion bursting through the walls she had erected around her heart.

"Mommy said you got hurt protecting Rachel from a nasty man who tried her get her."

Quinn nodded again and just rubbed her hands across the back of Beth's narrow frame. "It's okay, Beth. I'm fine."

"Are you really okay? Mommy said you were hurt really bad." Beth stood upright for a minute and looked at Quinn's face properly.

"Beth, honey. Don't pester Quinn please." Shelby watched Quinn's face start to fall.

This was rapidly going downhill from the blonde's point of view. She had tried to stop herself from getting too emotional and could feel the sobs building in her throat. She pushed her thumbs into her eyes so the tears couldn't run out, but found her breath hitching and suddenly all the repressed hurt and pain at what had happened just hit her like a flash. Beth looked stunned for a moment and then Rachel was beside her wife, the sense of relief at seeing her finally let go was huge. Rachel wrapped Quinn up and just held her as the woman cried her heart out. LeRoy passed a clean handkerchief to his daughter who looked at him gratefully. She flicked it open and held it out for Quinn who held it to her eyes.

Shelby could see now, as Quinn's shoulders shook and her chest heaved, nothing else did. They rest of her body wobbled slightly from the shaking of her shoulders, but was otherwise still. She could no longer leave the distance between them and closed in. She didn't try to get her to stop crying, but simply stood beside her and rubbed a hand across the back of her shoulders in an attempt to reassure and sooth her.

Very little was said by anyone for a while. Hiram and Le Roy shared knowing looks, suspecting like everyone who knew her, that Quinn had been holding onto her emotions for weeks now. Afraid to show weakness in case it made Rachel feel worse.

But Rachel didn't feel worse, she felt like finally she was of some use again instead of feeling lost and afraid and useless. As she held Quinn up and stopped her from collapsing onto her own knees from exhaustion, Rachel was grateful to have ben there when it happened, grateful for the chance to repay the debt she felt to her own spouse.

Their foreheads were touching as Rachel held the back of Quinn's head and tangled her fingers in the long blonde mane that ran down her wife's back.

"We're all here now and you can just let go. You don't have to hide the tears anymore. We're here for you and we love you, okay?"

Rachel's words drew more sobs from Quinn until she just ran out of tears. Her face was red and blotchy, the skin around her eyes swollen and her lashes stuck to each other, glistening still with the tears. Finally she took a huge controlling breath and finally managed to say something after three attempts.

"I'm really …." she sighed, "glad I didn't wear mascara today.." A few more tears ran out at that, but this time there was a hint of a smile on the lips.

Rachel wiped her own face and looked around at the rest of them. Pretty much everyone was red eyed, even Beth was clearly upset, mostly because she thought she had caused Quinn to start crying, but Hiram had crouched down to explain it wasn't her fault and that Quinn was just emotional at everything that had happened, not specifically anything the youngster had done.

"Do you feel better for that?"

Quinn sniffed loudly. "That was dignified," she snorted. "I do feel better actually, but sorry guys for upsetting you all."

Each in turn waved away the apology, except for Beth. She was stood with Hiram, leaning her shoulder into him, but watched Quinn intently. She kept looking at the wheelchair and then back at Quinn's face.

Rachel stood, sensing Quinn could use a little space to calm down and went to make brunch, taking LeRoy with her. Hiram glanced around.

"Quinn, Rachel said something about boxes to be moved."

"Oh, I forgot. Yes, thanks. Upstairs. Rachel said you would help us move them. It's just old stuff to be sent to goodwill, books and toys."

Hiram nodded and went off to do something useful.

Shelby stood up straight, but kept her hand on Quinn's shoulder and waved Beth back over. The girl took a few hesitant steps forwards and slipped into the crook of Shelby's arm. Beth placed her hands hesitantly on the tire of the wheelchair and ran her fingers over it. She looked up and met Quinn's watery gaze.

"Please don't be sad anymore," she whispered. "Mommy and me will help you." She looked up at Shelby who smiled and nodded.

"I know you will. I'm sorry I got all upset. Can I get a hug? That would make me feel so much better."

Beth leaned into Quinn's side and relaxed as the older woman wrapped her arms around. It didn't feel any different, but the wheelchair got in the way and she could only put her arms either side instead of all the way around. "Do you feel better now?"

"Much better, Beth. Thank you." Quinn gave her a smile as she released her hold. "If you want to look through the boxes Hiram is bringing down and take some books and things you can. We'll send the rest to goodwill."

Beth's face lit up. "Can I really?"

"You can have whatever you like," Quinn stroked the silky hair and revelled in being so close to the girl. They didn't spend a lot of time together, but somehow they always just got on.

—The VIPs—

"Ready for this?" Rachel glanced down at her wife.

"I guess."

They were back in New York, which was odd. It was as if they had been gone for a long time, even though it was just a few months. So much had changed. They had already been to see their apartment and decided that it was no good. It was very beautiful but also on different levels and the hallway was too narrow really. The elevator was sometimes unreliable and Rachel could tolerate a lot, but not the thought of Quinn either trapped in their apartment or locked out because it wasn't working for a few days. They could live in it for a short time, but long term it just wasn't going to work.

For Quinn, the apartment seemed like the least of her worries. It was people she had concerns about. Mostly people she knew actually. She went to see the remainder of the cast of her play and there was a great deal of upset once they realised the full extent of what had happened outside the theatre that night. Too much guilt for not having done anything hung around even though in reality none of them could have done anything.

But if that was hard, much worse was going to the school where she had worked so happily for the previous four years. It didn't take the blonde long to accept that there could be no going back. She could see it in the faces of the girls she used to teach and the staff she had worked alongside. They felt sorry for her and it showed clearly in their faces and how they treated her. They were kind, sympathetic and understanding. All of which Quinn was trying to escape in favour of normality and teasing and fun.

Worse than any of that though, was how they felt in New York itself. Both had wanted so much to return to their life, the one they had enjoyed so much, but in the time since they had left, life had moved on without them as it inevitably did. It was so fast moving that they just felt left behind somehow. They had changed and the city had moved on without them. It just didn't feel like home anymore.

It was strange because Santana had waved them off as though it was the last time she would see them for months maybe. She had doubted the couple would return, especially after the incident in the house. Upstairs was still like the twilight zone, they were afraid of it and avoided going up in Rachel's case, unless someone else was with her.

Santana was able to get around quite easily on her crutches now and was fairly independent apart from still not being able to drive, but at least she could manage to look after herself without needing any help. She had agreed to stay in the house for a while longer until the hardware was off her leg at least and then she would see how well she could cope with stairs before going back to her apartment.

Quinn and Rachel acted as though she was doing them a favour staying in the house for them while they were away. They felt better having someone there after the shooting.

Santana's phone started ringing as she had dinner on her lap and a movie playing on TV. Grabbing it, she checked the ID and saw Rachel's name on screen.

"Hey, Rach. How goes it in the Big Apple?"

"Hello Santana. We are fine. How are you?"

"Good, mom's finally off my back, though she keeps calling to make sure I remembered the stupid plastic cast cover thing in the shower." The detective rolled her eyes. "Everything okay there? Apartment all sorted and stuff?"

"We have come to the conclusion that it's not really any good. Certainly not long term."

"Oh shoot. That's annoying. Is Q all bust up about it?"

"Not at all, she actually of the same opinion as I am about things."

"Oh, that's good I guess. But what exactly is your opinion about a new apartment?"

"I think it's a terrible idea. We both do. We have tried to fall in love with the city again, but it just lacks any meaning now. It feels empty without Quinn's mom and my dads, without you too and our other friends. We looked at each other yesterday and just knew exactly what the other was thinking. Quinn was at her school, and she just said straight out, 'I don't want to stay here' and I thought she meant the school at first but she meant New York and I just had the biggest sigh of relief and then we both started laughing."

Santana chuckled into her phone. "So you're moving back home? Or are you going to move somewhere else that's glamorous and exciting? London, Paris, Berlin maybe?"

"No, we're going to return to Ohio, but we are going to sell the house and buy a new place. It feel right to start over somewhere new and not feel tied to the past anymore. Pastures new I guess."

"What are you going to do next? I mean I can hardly see you on stage at the Lima Playhouse, Rachel."

Rachel's laugh filtered down the line.

"I suppose not. I can live without being so high profile now. I am going to record more as I had planned anyway and there are other cities closer to home maybe. I might do something in Chicago or even Cleveland. I can afford to ease off a little."

"What about Quinn. She told me she loved teaching."

"She does, but there are schools everywhere so something will hopefully come up closer to home."

The Latina smiled. "When shall I expect you back?"

"We'll be home tomorrow evening."

Another smile spread across the detective's face.


End file.
